Photographs
by witchofnovember
Summary: Photographs of Gaza set off a series of events that change everything. (JD plus others) UPDATED - COMPLETE
1. Photographs

CHARACTERS: Josh/Donna

EPISODE: Post- NSF Thurmont and 6th season premiere

RATING: PG-13 (Language)

SUMMARY: Colin's pictures of the explosion aftermath surface.

DISCLAIMER: Aaron Sorkin is a genus and a linguistic musician – All kudos to him for developing these characters... they are all his.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have a feeling Wells won't take up the storyline of the pictures shot by Colin after the explosion. I was wondering what Josh would do if he found out about them... I was also contemplating the scenes between Josh and Donna when she starts dealing with her experience. Hope to continue this if there is an interest. Also – I swear in an episode, Josh called Donna "JoJo" and I love that nickname and wanted to use it somewhere!

PHOTOGRAPHS (1)

"Oh my God, JoJo. You have got to hear this – Toby said that the other night, Molly..."

Josh Lyman stopped as he came around the corner of the bullpen. His assistant, Donna Moss, was sitting at her desk, completely still and deathly pale, staring at something in her hands.

"Donna..." Josh said as he started to approach her, his normally buoyant stance suddenly very reserved. "What's up?"

The blonde snapped out of her reverie and slid whatever she had been looking at under a pile of folders on her desk.

"What? I'm sorry, Josh, I didn't hear you."

"What were you looking at? It's not time for this year's edition of 'The Hottest on the Hill' is it?' he laughed, the smile not quite traveling to his eyes as he watched her painfully straighten up from her chair and turn toward him. Since her return from Germany, she was a little less graceful, a little less joyous in her movements. Josh couldn't determine if it was from her injuries or from the experience of the attack, but knew, either way, that he would give anything to have her be able to simply get up from a chair with the ease she used to have.

"No, it's not time for that article yet, Josh, you know that. Margaret, Carol, Ginger and Bonnie would have been swooning all day if it had come out," she chided, walking toward his office with a folder in her hand, "It was nothing. Now, remember that C.J. wants the senior staff in her office in about 30 minutes for a meeting on the energy consortium."

Josh stepped aside to let Donna walk by, watching the hitching limp that she carried as a reminder of her trip to the Middle East. Every time he saw her walk, he cursed himself for giving her the spot on the CODEL that day. With each wince or hesitation, he felt himself get sick, picturing the exuberant, naïve and incredibly open woman she had been side-by-side with the quieter, reserved and withheld Donna that stood before him now.

"Please tell me she didn't bring up the Hummer accident again," Josh whined, "I thought I had taken care of that. I swear to God, when that woman gets something in her head..."

"Actually, Josh, I believe yesterday she said she would like to shove the Hummer up your ass, to join the other items she has deposited there over the years, but decided there wasn't enough room," Donna replied moving back out to her desk in the bullpen, "So if I were you, I would tread very lightly around her for a while. Oh, she wanted to remind you that you are on a diet and she told me that if you so much as touch one of the donuts at the coffee station, she'll break both of your hands." The last part of the message was delivered with that beautiful Moss smile and Josh was pleased that something had made it return, albeit briefly.

Picking up a stack of files, she moved down the hallway toward C.J.'s office, throwing her words over her shoulder at him.

"I have to take these to Margaret. Can I trust you not to get into trouble while I'm away? No setting the building on fire, causing a revolt in Congress, or, god forbid, causing another press spectacle?"

"Absolutely," Josh replied, giving her a mock salute, "I will be on my best behaviour for the next 5 minutes... But hurry up – I feel a coup d'etat coming on and according to your list, I'm still allowed a government overthrow..."

He watched her walk down the hallway, noting that she seemed to be moving a little better with each passing day. The physical therapy she endured three afternoons a week was tiring, and she didn't return to the White House when she was finished, going home after to rest. He often came over in the evenings to make sure she was holding up under the strain of coming back to work – he knew the signs for which he needed to be concerned.

In the weeks that Donna had been in Germany, she had never mentioned the explosion. Every time he had tried to bring it up with her, to get her to open up to him about what she was feeling, she would glance away, or put on a smile and change the subject, frustrating him at every turn. Her mother, while she had been there, had also tried to broach the subject, but had less success that Josh had at getting her daughter to talk about what had happened. Mrs. Moss and Josh had agreed that it was better to let Donna do what she needed to do to get through her time in the hospital and if avoiding any kind of talk about the explosion helped her to get back on her feet, then so be it.

But Josh knew that running from the past was a mistake and he was afraid Donna was walking down a path that would end in tears. His own experience after Rosslyn should have been enough of a cautionary tale, but Josh knew that when you are hurting, there is no kind of caution in the world that is strong enough to break through the pain. Donna might know the signs in Josh, but that didn't mean she would know the signs when the pain became too much for her to bear herself.

As soon as she was out of sight, he walked over to her desk and reached under the pile of folders, pulling out a glossy European news magazine. Flipping through the pages, Josh realized the magazine was in French – not one of his strong suits – and wondered why Donna would have been reading a French news magazine and, moreover, why she would have hidden it from him.

Within seconds, the answer became obvious as he came across an article on the Mid-East conflict and, in particular, violence against Westerners in Israel and Palestine. Josh's French was almost non-existent, but he recognized many of the faces in the photographs and could pick out certain phrases he had seen used in various briefings over the years. As he turned the pages, he suddenly stopped and what he saw made him feel sick.

On the page in front of him was a collage of photographs of the CODEL – shots of Admiral Fitzwallace, Andi, and Donna, in a floppy hat, smiling and beautiful. But there, in the center of the page, was a sight that made his heart surge to his throat and his breath stop. It was a photograph of the burning Suburban, soldiers in black running through the frame, and through the window, a figure hanging upside down, blonde hair visible through the blood and soot.

Josh had seen the coverage of the burning car on the television – at the time he had not known that Donna had been in the truck and later, watching re-runs of the coverage, he found he had to turn it off to keep himself from throwing up. The very idea of Donna slowly bleeding to death in the burning car had been more than he had been able to handle and still proved to be something he could not witness on the newscasts. And here, right in front of him, was the most detailed picture of the whole event that had been shown to date.

Looking at the credit on the photographs, he felt his breath become shallow and his heart race as his anger grew inside him. Colin. That bastard had stood by, while the car burned and Donna lay inside, and fucking took pictures. "_Bastard_!"

"Josh! What are you doing?"

He looked up at Donna, his jaw set. His words came out in a soft growl he was unable to control.

"He took pictures."

"Yes, Josh, I can see that."

"He fucking took pictures of you!" his voice became a shout and staff in the bullpen stopped to look at him. He glared at her unable to believe that her anger didn't match his.

Donna glanced around the bullpen.

"Not here, Josh!" she hissed, walking over, taking his elbow and pushing him into his office.

"Donna, he took fucking _pictures_ of you while you were strapped in that seat bleeding to death!"

She winced at his words. She shut the door and turned to look at him, his anger palpable from her position at the door. "Josh, please don't shout."

"Don't shout? _Don't shout!_? Donna – this goddamned son-of-a-bitch..."

"Josh!"

He looked up at her and saw something that made his heart break – Donna had never before looked at him with such a look of defeat. Not in all the years of his insults about gomers and self-worth. Not in all the years of overwork and low pay. She spoke his name now as if it was some kind of plea, "Josh..."

"Where did you get this, Donna?" he asked quietly.

"It's not important. Just throw it away, please? It's not worth all of this excitement. All of that is over now."

"It _is_ important, Donna. Where did this come from? We didn't get a heads up on it – which is amazing since pretty much everything that has been written on the CODEL was given to C.J. or Toby first – so where did you get this?" Josh had tried to keep a finger on all of the press coverage of the trip, to keep certain things out of Donna's hands, or to try to warn her when there might be articles she should avoid. His watch covered not only domestic, but foreign coverage as well, and he was amazed that something like this had slipped below his radar.

"I said it didn't matter," she snapped, "Jesus, Josh! Just let it go. I don't want to do this right now."

At that point, Donna threw open the door and walked out to her desk. "I have to go to therapy. Ginger said she'd cover for you this afternoon, so if you need anything you can ask her. I'm leaving." She kept her back to him and refused to meet his eyes as she put on her coat and gathered her things.

As she walked toward the lobby, the click of her heels made an irregular pattern as she limped toward the front door. Josh watched her retreating form from the doorway of his office, hundreds of thoughts chasing one another through his mind. He looked down at the photographs in the magazine and closed his eyes in pain.

"Oh, Donnatella," he whispered, "This is _so_ much worse than stopping for a beer."

(To be continued.)


	2. Photographs 2

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Wow. Thanks for the wonderful responses. I have no idea where this is going. This chapter wrote itself - I kept picturing Josh and Toby in this scene. I'm not that experienced with creating dialogue and I am trying to be truthful to the characters, so if you think this doesn't sound like either one of these guys, please let me know and I'll work on it.

I think this story, as it continues, will be less about the actual photographs and Colin than Donna's eventual reaction to what happened to her and Josh's ability (or inability – dunno yet) to help her. I have another story out there -"Red Lights" – which is also a work-in-progress. It deals with the events of "Gaza", "Memorial Day" and "NSF Thurmont" and will probably be a prequel to this...

PHOTOGRAPHS (2)

Toby swallowed hard... once, twice...he blinked a few times, his hands shaking slightly as he looked at the magazine. "She saw this?"

"Yeah."

"She ok?"

"I don't know. She yelled at me for getting upset about it and stormed out to go to therapy."

"Where'd she get this?"

"Dunno. She wouldn't tell me. Told me it wasn't important."

Toby looked up at Josh, sitting on the couch, his head in his hands, and felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness for the younger man. The feeling had been surfacing more and more since the moment they made eye contact after C.J.'s news of the Gaza bombing. It had seemed, in that moment of shared fear and pain, the two men forged a bond that years of campaigning and executive service hadn't been able to create.

"Josh...."

"Mmm?"

"How is she doing?"

"Fine."

"Josh..."

"What?"

"How is she _really_ doing?"

"I don't...I don't know," Josh responded slowly, lifting his head to look Toby in the eye. He pondered opening up to a man who was normally reticent to involve himself in other's private lives. But he felt that they now shared some kind of private relationship that others couldn't understand. In the moments before Andi's phone call that day, they were both sharing the same terror and it was a feeling that still lurked in the back of Josh's mind during his waking and sleeping hours.

"I've tried to get her to talk. I've tried to get her to tell me what she remembers, what she is feeling, what is going on in her head and she won't do it. She changes the subject or tells me that she's ok – that she's talking to one of Stanley's people and that's all she needs right now. I don't know if that is enough. Toby, she's never once mentioned it to me. You know, the...thing."

Josh was up and pacing now, his voice becoming more and more agitated, "It's not natural. It's not right. God, Toby – she saw what happened to me after Rosslyn, when I came back and pretended that nothing had happened. I mean c'mon! She needs to talk about it."

"She's talking to Stanley's people?"

"Yeah – once a week."

"Well, then, she _is _talking about it, Josh."

"But she's not talking about it to _me_!"

The exasperated tone in the other man's voice made Toby smile slightly. For years he had watched Josh chase various women around Washington, while the whole time, right under his nose, was someone Toby thought was the perfect match. Granted, since the attack, Josh had been stuck to Donna like a burr, watching her every move, lurking in his doorway while she worked, as if he needed to keep an eye on her at all times. Toby was surprised Josh let her go to therapy alone. Although the Deputy Chief of Staff would find it a little hard to disappear from the office for whole afternoons, Toby was sure it had been contemplated. To those who didn't know him, Josh's continued barbs and sarcasm toward his assistant probably made it appear as though things had returned to "normal", but to those who knew him, who had seen his stricken face that day, he was indeed a changed man. Perhaps, Toby thought, an epiphany had taken place in that incredibly bullish head....

"What do you want to do?"

"About...?"

"The photographs," answered Toby, looking down again at the picture of the black Suburban, finding his eyes drawn to the face of the woman in the window.

"What would you do?" Josh answered, sitting back down on the couch and staring intently at the Communications Director, knowing that Toby's fierce devotion to his family outweighed some of his better angels.

"What?"

"What would you do if that was a picture of Andi, and not Donna, in that truck?"

Toby studied the picture for a moment, the muscles in his jaw working and his brow wrinkling in thought. After several moments of silence, his face became set, the lines on his forehead disappearing – he looked up at Josh and quietly replied, "If it were Andi in this picture instead of Donna, I would hunt this fucking bastard down and kill him."

Josh exhaled heavily, the vehemence of Toby's words pulling the air out of the room.

"Yeah," he replied. "At least you and I are on the same page about that." He looked down at his hands and then back up at Toby, "However, given who you are and who I am, that's not really an option right now."

"No, it's not... And I don't think it would solve anything if you killed him anyhow. The pictures are out there, Donna has seen them, and the damage is done." Toby rubbed his hands over his face and wondered if there really was any justice in the world. If you combined the lifelong tragedies of the Bartlet clan – staff and First Family, included – it was a miracle they were all still functioning on a daily basis.

"Have you taken this to C.J.?"

"No – not yet," Josh replied, standing up from the couch and walking over to Toby's desk. "I'm going up there now. I just wanted to show you – Andi is in a couple of these pictures and I thought you should know."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"No problem."

Toby noticed a decidedly tired slump to the other man's shoulders and wondered how he was holding up. Since his return from Germany, the swagger was a little more subdued and both Toby and CJ had worried about him. He wondered what Josh's reaction had really been when he saw the photographs for the first time.

_What would you do if that was a picture of Andi and not Donna?_

The thought made Toby sick to his stomach and he realized he didn't have to wonder what Josh felt because it would have been the same thing he would have felt if their roles had been reversed.

"Josh."

"Yeah," Josh stopped and turned, halfway out of Toby's door.

"She'll be ok. You know that, don't you? She's tough. She'll be ok."

Josh looked at Toby for a beat and then turned again to walk out into the bullpen.

"Yeah."

(To be continued.)


	3. Photographs 3

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is taking on a life of its own… A friend of mine (who is not a WingNut, but I'm trying to get her there) has suggested some upcoming twists and turns (she knows enough about the characters to give some ideas) and I think some of the upcoming chapters should be good ones.

As always, thank you to all for your reviews – I honestly appreciate your time and thoughts.

PHOTOGRAPHS (3)

C.J. Cregg sat in her office after Josh slammed the door behind him and wondered what the hell had happened in her life in the last several weeks. Before the CODEL, she had been an excellent Press Secretary and bang-up friend. Now? She was a struggling Chief of Staff and high on several shit lists. She looked down at the magazine photo layout on her desk and thought, _My God. I told her to go out and do something for herself and look at what happened._

The staff meeting on the energy consortium had gone well and was over within 10 minutes. Toby was going to run point on this as Josh's incident with the Hummer was still a sore point with some of the environmental lobbyists and C.J. wanted the administration's message to be unclouded with scandal – if that was ever possible with this administration.

C.J. had noticed that Josh seemed a little antsy during the meeting, but chalked it up to the recent changes in the Chief of Staff's office and her own inexperience. Since she had taken over Leo's job, Josh had been helpful and friendly, but somewhat distanced, as if he was unsure of his footing within the structure of the "new" administration. C.J. didn't know if it was because of his recent emotional roller-coaster with Donna and the CODEL attack, Leo's heart attack, or if there was something else going on.

Josh hung back after the rest of the staff left the office, shifting from foot to foot, and waited for C.J. to finish going over her phone messages with Margaret. Once Margaret had shut the door behind her, Josh walked over to C.J.'s desk and threw the magazine down in front of her.

"What's this?"

"Take a look," he replied, throwing himself heavily into a visitor's chair, "It probably won't be the last time those pictures appear in print and I'm sure we're going to be asked about them."

C.J. looked down at the pictures and felt the bile rise in the back of her throat. She recognized the burning SUV immediately and saw the blonde hair through the shattered window.

"Oh my God. Where did you get this?"

"Donna."

"Oh shit, Josh. Who gave it to her?"

"I don't know, C.J. She won't tell me. However, I think I should point out that the photographer in question was one she met while she was on the CODEL. Apparently, he took a personal interest in her education about the Israeli/Palestinian matter… among other things."

C.J. looked up when she heard the disgusted tone in Josh's voice, "What?"

"They had a … thing… while she was over there."

A wave of nausea rolled over C.J. as she thought of her conversation with Donna during the lockdown. _Go do something for yourself. Separate yourself from him, Donna. Have a fling. Go live a little_.

"How do you know this?" she asked, focusing on the photographs in front of her to avoid having to look him in the eye.

"He came to visit her in Germany. It was pretty obvious, C.J."

"Oh my God."

"Yeah, well… now he's screwed her twice." There was more than a hint of sorrow in his voice and C.J. wondered if was rooted in the photographs or in the knowledge of Donna's affair.

"You seem pretty calm about it, Joshua. I would have expected more from you – a typical display of the Lyman temper, some shouting or destruction of government property."

"That was earlier. I managed to chase Donna out of the building and scare an entire bullpen of assistants," he sighed. "If that son-of-a-bitch had been anywhere in the tri-state area, I probably would have needed a good attorney and bail money."

C.J. studied the man across from her and weighed her options. She felt the need to tell him about her conversation with Donna – after all, she and Josh had been friends for years and keeping something like that from him was a source of an uncomfortable guilt – even with her new position as his boss. On the other hand, she was concerned as to how he would take hearing her advice to Donna. She wanted him to understand Donna's devotion and her own need to make the younger woman see she was wasting her life and talent. C.J. knew that unless Donna did something to make Josh see how he felt, nothing would change.

No matter how she couched the words, though, C.J. was almost certain she was in for a fight with her deputy.

"Josh, there is something I need to tell you."

He looked up at her questioningly, arching his eyebrows and giving her the patented 'I-know-this-is-going-to-be-bad' look, "What's up?"

"Do you remember the night of the lockdown – after the Correspondents' Dinner? When I was in here with Donna and you were stuck in your office with Kate?"

"Yeah," he responded, beginning to look a little confused, "Yeah, I remember."

"Well, while we were in here, Donna and I had a talk…"

"Ok, but, C.J., I really don't need to hear your conversation about nail polish and hemlines right now, you know?" he chuckled, shifting in the chair and trying to get himself a little more comfortable.

"Gee, that wasn't incredibly sexist or anything. Thanks. No, seriously, Donna and I had a talk about her career, and her future…"

She had Josh's attention now.

"… and you."

"Me? You had a conversation with Donna about me?" C.J. could hear a note of anger creeping into Josh's voice and knew things were going to go downhill fast.

"Well, yes. I told her that she needed to start thinking about herself as a person separate from you and from her job. I told her she needed to think about why she was still with you."

"What? C.J., what the _hell_ were you doing?"

_Oh God_, she thought, _this is not going to go where I wanted it to go._

She continued, knowing she needed to get everything out before he went ballistic, "Josh – think about it. She's intelligent, loyal, creative. Hell, she's saved our asses time and time again when no one else knew what the hell to do around here. And she's not going to go anywhere working for you because you won't let her go. And she can't have a personal life working for you because you won't let her go with respect to that either. And while she is devoted to you, she knows you won't change anything."

Josh sat looking at her, his mouth open and a shocked expression on his face.

"You know I'm right and so did she," C.J. rushed on, "She went on the CODEL knowing she had to do something different, something new. I think that's why she had a 'thing' with the photographer. It was the first thing she has done in the last 5 years that didn't involve you."

At that point, Josh's self-control snapped. He lept out of the chair and stood over C.J.'s desk, "You told her to go over there and fuck some strange guy so she could feel better about herself? That she needed to run away from _me?_ Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Josh, wait…"

"No. You wait, C.J.! If you hadn't given her such stellar advice, maybe she wouldn't have slept with this bastard, he wouldn't have known who she was or been that close to the wreck, and maybe, just maybe, these pictures wouldn't be out for the entire world to see and for her to have to relive!"

"Hey, buddy – that's way out of line!" The two were now nearly eye to eye over the top of her desk and C.J. was waiting for Margaret, or even worse, the President, to come through one of the connecting doors because of the noise. "Don't you even think of blaming me for this," she said pointing at the magazine on her desk.

"Like hell it's out of line! She respects you, C.J. She looks up to you. Did you really think that if you told her it was a good idea to leave me and go find herself some excitement she would think it was a bad idea? What kind of friend are you?"

"I'm a good friend, Josh. And I'm Donna's friend as well as yours, so you might want to remember that."

Josh looked at her, silently furious, and quietly said,"You told her to leave me."

"I'm sorry, Josh. I really thought it was time for her to figure out who she was without you to hold her back. I was talking to her as a friend."

Slamming his fist down on her desk, he shouted, "_You had no right_!"

C.J. stared at him for a moment and then looked down at the photographs on the page in front of her and wondered if he was correct. When she looked back up at him, he was stalking out of the office, slamming the door in his wake.

As she studied the pictures, C.J. looked at the photographer's credits again. She recognized the name from somewhere – she couldn't remember quite where - and thought for a moment. Slowly reaching over, she picked up the phone and dialed, holding the magazine in front of her and studying the pictures intently.

"Hey, Melissa? It's C.J. Cregg… Yeah, I know… lots of changes… Look, I need you to do something for me and I need it to be kept quiet – consider it a personal favor…. Yeah? You'll do it?... Great… I need you to look someone up for me…"

(To be continued.)


	4. Photographs 4

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Believe it or not, I just saw 'NSF Thurmont' for the first time (yeah – I'm about 5 episodes behind the curve)… anyway, the expression on Josh's face when Donna wakes up at the end of the episode is remarkable… expect those kinds of emotions to appear soon… as soon as I can find the right words to do Bradley Whitford's acting justice.

In the meantime, the story continues…

PHOTOGRAPHS (4)

Josh stood outside of Donna's apartment, scuffing the toe of his loafers on the sidewalk while he debated going up the stairs to see her. He thought over his conversation… well, argument… with C.J. and looked up at the window of Donna's living room.

_She wanted something new_, he thought, _and C.J. told her to leave me_. _And after that, she nearly died. God. What has happened to us?_

He contemplated getting in his car and going home to drown himself in a bottle of Jack Daniels he had hidden in the back of one of his kitchen cabinets. He didn't even like bourbon, but a voice in the back of his head was telling him this was a good a time as any to learn to appreciate it. What better time than now – after finding out she was ready to leave him for yet _another_ bastard who used her for his own purposes and left her by the wayside? Dr. Freeride _Part Two …_ with deadlier consequences.

But Josh knew that he couldn't go home. Not only did he need to see her and make sure she was coping with having seen the photographs, but he also needed to find out if what C.J. said had been true – if Donna really had thought of leaving him. If she had run to Gaza and into someone else's arms because she could no longer stay with him.

He steeled himself, opened the door to the apartment building, and walked up the steps.

There was no answer to his knock. He wondered if she had seen him standing outside by his car and was simply refusing to answer the door. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keyring and found the key to her apartment – he hadn't used it since she had first come home from Germany, when he would come by several times a day to make sure she was taking care of herself.

When he opened the door, he called her name softly, not wanting to startle her, "Donna?"

"Donna, it's Josh…"

Getting no response, he moved further into the apartment, glancing into the kitchen and then the living room. As he turned, he saw her laying on the couch, fast asleep, with her leg outstretched and piled on pillows, a bag of ice on her thigh right above the long scar that marked where they had to rebuild her femur.

Walking over to her, he flashed back to seeing her in the hospital bed in Germany, face covered in scars, tubes and machines hooked up to all parts of her body. He had never been so scared in his life. Sure, he had been shot and near death himself, but he didn't remember most of those moments. And what he remembered didn't hold a candle to the doctor telling him Donna might have suffered brain damage and might be permanently disabled for life. At that very moment, he had known pure terror and knew that he never wanted to feel that way again.

Josh reached down and pushed a straying lock of hair from her cheek, noting the dark circles under her eyes and the pain lines on her forehead. _Today's therapy must have been hard_, he thought, _she must be hurting_.

Pulling up the afghan she had wrapped around her and gathering up the bag of ice, Josh went into the kitchen. He put the ice in the sink and picked up the phone to order dinner, knowing Donna hadn't eaten anything all day and would probably sleep through until the morning without eating if he didn't wake her. Finishing the call, he wandered back out to the living room, moving quietly, and settled himself in a chair across from the sofa. As he looked around the room, he noticed a framed picture of the two of them, taken at one of the balls held during the last Inaugural.

Rising slowly and moving across the room, he picked it up and studied it carefully. Donna was laughing at something outside of the frame, her eyes sparkling and flashing, her head turned away from him. He was standing at her side and looking down at her in a way that could only be described as infatuated. Josh was amazed at the expression on his own face. _God. She is so beautiful. And I had no idea I looked at her like that_, he thought.

Behind him, Donna stirred on the sofa. Putting down the picture, he walked over and kneeled on the floor next to her, brushing that same errant hair away from her face.

"Hey, Sleepyhead."

"Josh…"

"Yeah. I came over to see how therapy went this afternoon. I guess not so good."

Donna pulled herself into sitting position on the sofa, wincing as she moved her leg, and rubbing the sleep out her eyes.

"Ummm… it wasn't too bad. I was just a little tired when I got home, though."

Josh knew she was trying to be brave. He couldn't quite figure out why – after all, he had seen her at her worst, just as she had seen him after the shooting – and he wanted desperately to let her know that she didn't have to pretend for him. At the same time, he didn't want to make her any more uncomfortable, so he pretended he believed her.

"Ok. Well, I ordered food. Chinese. I know you didn't eat lunch or dinner and you must keep up your strength so you can serve your lord and master."

"Oh really?" she smiled, looking at him with a cocked brow and mock disbelief, "And who might that be?"

"Why, me, of course! I'm da man!" he laughed, happy to see the shadows leave her eyes even if it was just for a moment.

"Joshua…" she sighed, standing up from the sofa. At that moment, her leg gave out on her and she started to fall. Josh caught her and sat her back down on the sofa gently.

"Donna – where are your crutches?"

"I don't need my crutches, Josh. I just…"

"Donna," he chastised, looking her in the eye, "You almost fell on your ass. I don't know what you are trying to prove, but you need your crutches."

She looked up at him, anger causing her eyes to glitter, "So you're a doctor now, Josh? You can waltz in here and tell me what I need to do?"

"Donna, c'mon," he stuttered, "You're not going to get any better if you keep doing more damage to yourself."

Standing up from the sofa, Donna looked down at him, "I am fine, Joshua." With that, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and walked toward the kitchen.

Josh watched her walk away from him and marveled at her self control. He knew she must be in pain and yet, she carried herself across the room as if there was nothing in the world wrong with her.

Following her into the other room, Josh decided he needed to come clean about his conversation with C.J. "I talked to C.J. this afternoon."

Donna stopped in midstride and turned to look at him, "Did you tell her about the pictures?"

"Yes. I did. I thought she would want to know in case they become an issue."

"Oh, Josh…"

"Donna – you may not want to admit it, but the explosion made you a pretty prominent person on the news front. The fact that those pictures exist, and are obviously available, means that someone is going to pick up on the story and the whole thing may play out again in the press. C.J. needed to know."

Josh had taken several steps toward her and stopped just short of putting his hands on her to steady her as she had started to sway slightly. He couldn't tell if it was from the emotional impact of everything that had happened over the course of the day, the pain from therapy, or something else. But she gathered herself together and took a seat at the tiny kitchen island, running her hands through her hair and then laying them out on the counter in front of her.

"I also talked to C.J. about something else," he started, watching her watch her hands. "She said that the two of you had a conversation the night of the Correspondents' Dinner lockdown."

At the mention of that night, Josh saw Donna clench and then relax her hands and swallow nervously several times. "She said she told you it was time to 'go out and find yourself'."

Donna sat quietly for a few moments, and Josh leaned up against the counter by the sink, watching her intently.

"Is that true?"

Finally, Donna sighed and mumbled an answer.

"Yeah. She told me I needed to find out who I was without you. That you were holding me back."

"Do you think that is true? Do I hold you back?" he replied, holding his breath.

Donna brushed her hair out of her eyes and turned to him, a pleading look in her eyes.

"Josh, I…"

At that moment, the buzzer for the front door sounded – dinner had arrived. Josh took one last look at her sitting at the island, studying her hands again, and went to the front door to collect dinner and pay the delivery man.

Walking back into the kitchen, he found her pulling bowls from the cabinets and putting out silverware. Believing, in a way that would have made Sam proud, that discretion was the better part of valor, Josh began setting out the take-out cartons and getting drinks from the refrigerator. The two were silent until they sat down, again at the island, and began to eat.

After five minutes of uncomfortable silence, Donna put down her fork and turned to him.

"I didn't tell her I wanted to leave you."

Josh's fork stopped in midair and he looked at her questioningly.

"I didn't tell her I wanted to leave," Donna repeated. "She told me you were holding me back. That I could go out into the private sector and do anything I wanted to do. She said you wouldn't let me go because you had it too good."

Josh set his fork down, pushed himself away from the island and started to pace. Whenever confronted or uncomfortable, Josh Lyman felt the need to move and this time was no exception.

"Josh, you gave me the CODEL and it was just something to shut me up. I've been with you over six years and I am still the copy girl. I'm still the 'assistant'. I'm still just another faceless cog in the administrative wheel. I don't really matter and that depresses me. But I didn't tell her I wanted to leave you."

"How can you say that?" he responded, looking at her with true disbelief this time, "You stopped Stackhouse, you got the Social Security checks sent out during the shutdown, you keep me going every day. What do you mean you don't matter?"

"Josh – I'm the assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff. When I was blown up in a truck in Israel, they didn't even use my name in the newscasts! I was a job description, not a person!" She was standing now, tears of frustration in her eyes. "I am nothing outside of that job – I have no life, no future that doesn't surround making sure you get to the right meeting on time! I am an 'also-dead' and that hasn't changed."

"Donna, that's not…"

"When was the last time I went on a date that didn't end in you calling me or demanding that I come back to the office, Josh? When was the last time I had a real relationship with a man where you or my job didn't interfere? When was the last time I did something that didn't involve keeping your schedule or getting your dry cleaning. God, Josh, I can't remember the last time I had a relationship with a man that involved anything other than making sure I got through a drink without you calling me."

"You seemed to do pretty well in that department when you screwed Colin in Gaza," he retorted.

Donna gasped and clenched her fists, "That's not fair, Joshua."

"Fair? I travel three thousand miles to find you unconscious in a bed in a hospital in Germany and the next time I turn around another guy is by your beside with flowers and a kiss? How long did you wait before you fucked him, Donna? Did you even wait to finish the first drink?"

Her eyes flew open and she was visibly shaking with anger. "How dare you!"

Josh pushed on, "Did you have fun with him, Donna? Did he make you feel important? Let me tell you something about his kind… he toyed with you because you were there, Donna. Not because he cared about you."

She looked at him with nothing short of pure fury and shouted, "Get out! Get out of my house!"

"Fine!" he yelled back at her, walking out into the living room and grabbing his coat from the chair by the door. Donna followed him to the kitchen doorway, holding onto the jamb for support.

"I'm not yours, Josh. You don't own me. I can do as I please."

Walking to the front door, he opened it and turned toward her, "You've done a bang up job on your own so far, haven't you? Are you happy, Donna? Did being out from underneath of my shadow make you feel important? Did being with him make you feel special?"

He left her apartment and slammed the door behind him.

(To be continued.)


	5. Photographs 5

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The last chapter was for Birdie, who wanted to see a fight between Josh and Donna. Yes, there needs to be further development and yes, I am going to follow up with Colin… It's all in the works.

PHOTOGRAPHS (5)

Night had fallen heavily upon the city and Josh found himself in the car, driving aimlessly, pondering the events of the day. He had argued with C.J., called Donna a whore, and basically screwed up his entire life, both professionally and personally in the course of a couple of hours.

_Way to go, Lyman_, he thought. _Now you just need to get fired, or better yet, shot again, and everything will be just craptaculous._

He pulled the car over and parked it on a side street. Picking up his phone, he dialed a very familiar number in California. Sam may not have come back to Washington, but that didn't mean his friends in Washington had forgotten him.

In the years since Sam Seaborn had left the West Wing, Josh had often called him to get his ideas on various events. Josh had called him from the hospital in Germany when Donna had finally emerged from surgery for the pulmonary embolism, his friend celebrating with him, never questioning why Josh had flown half-way around the world to sit by the bedside of his assistant.

Josh had described to Sam his conversation with C.J. – leaving his argument with Donna out of the picture - hoping that Sam, in that manly way men have with one another when discussing relationships, would agree with him that C.J. had overstepped her bounds and Donna had been stupid to take up with Colin. He was shocked when Sam agreed with C.J. that Josh was holding Donna back.

"You never let her date."

"I do so let her date – she dates all the time."

"Yeah, and you manage to either call her back into work, or harass her so much while she's out on the date that the guy wants nothing to do with her because her boss is a domineering bully."

"That's not…"

"You two have keys to one another's houses, Josh. How many bosses and assistants have that?"

"Sam," Josh chuckled, "she took care of my after Rosslyn. She needed a key. And I watered the plants at her place when she went to see her parents that time, so I needed a key to her place."

"You both still have the keys," Sam insisted, "and use them. You go over to her place all the time, Josh. Sometimes I think you are there more than you are at your own…"

"She's recuperating! She needs help!"

"Josh – she's not on crutches anymore. She can get around on her own. And besides – this all started long before Gaza. Stop being stupid. C.J. was right. Donna wouldn't have left you on her own and you are too blind to do anything."

"What are you saying?"

"What I am saying is that maybe she took up with this photographer because she is tired of waiting for you. You may be obsessed with your job, buddy, but she's not –she's got a future to think about. You've got your head up your ass, Josh, and if you don't remove it soon, you're going to wake up one day and she's going to be gone. Didn't you learn anything from all of this?"

Josh was silent, mulling Sam's words over in his mind.

"Look, Josh. Think about it. I mean really think about it. How would you feel if she left? I don't mean professionally either. How would you feel if she wasn't in your life at all? ... Answer that and I think you'll find you need to go back and talk to her."

Sam said his goodbyes and hung up, leaving Josh holding the phone and looking at it in total confusion.

As he was driving, Josh tried to sort out the emotions in his head, feeling that somewhere in the last 12 hours he had become horribly lost. After parking the car and climbing up the stairs to his apartment, he knew he needed to sit and think. Grabbing the Jack Daniels from the cabinet and a glass from the drainboard, he threw himself onto the sofa, poured himself a significant amount of bourbon and threw it back.

_Damn my 'sensitive system,'_ he thought, _I'm going to get drunk_.

He poured himself another drink and sipped it this time, wanting to get something productive done with his evening before he passed out cold.

_How would you feel if she wasn't in your life at all?_

Sam's words echoed in Josh's mind bringing up fears he thought he had put to rest when Donna returned from Germany. Sitting there in his living room, he was suddenly returned to her bedside in Landstuhl, waiting for her to regain consciousness after surgery, the doctor's warning that she might have brain damage ringing in his ears.

Never in his life had Josh Lyman been so afraid. When Joanie and his father died, they had been taken suddenly. He had never had time to think about the future without them – just the realization, suddenly, that they were no longer there. With Donna, he had hour after agonizing hour of bargaining with God to save her, of pondering the next day without her, and of being terrified of being alone.

When she opened her eyes and spoke his name, there in the gathering dusk of the hospital room, he thought it was a dream. He couldn't move until she said it two more times, each a little more desperate than the last. Tears had gathered in his eyes when he realized that she was awake and aware, and possibly, just possibly, going to be alright. He couldn't remember another time in his life when he had felt so happy and relieved and thankful to hear his name come from another person's lips. He thanked whatever higher being had restored her to him and promised to uphold his end of every deal he had cut in previous hours to keep her alive.

Since Donna's return from Germany, Josh had pushed all of these thoughts into the back of his mind, burying them with his fears over her discontent with her job, his jealousy over Colin, and his growing concern over the situation at the White House. Sam and C.J. were right… he couldn't deny it… he had held onto Donna because he didn't want her to leave. Not professionally and not, as he had begun to realize, personally either.

_Colin told me not to take her for granted._

Josh looked down into the bottom of his glass, deciding that he liked Jack Daniels after all. Realizing that he was getting slightly buzzed and was enjoying the feeling, he poured himself another drink and thought of his argument with Donna.

Suddenly, the phone at his elbow rang, causing him to jump six inches out of his seat. Cursing modern technology under his breath, he picked it up.

"Y'ello…"

"Josh?" the woman on the other end replied, "Are you drinking?"

C.J. had an uncanny knack of knowing when any kind of alcohol entered Josh's system. He referred to it as her own personal superhero power.

"Claudia Jean, you are a mutant. How do you do that?"

"It's my job in life, _mi amour_. Why are you drinking? And what are you drinking?"

"I'm partaking of my new friend, Jack. And I had a fight with Donna."

"Josh…"

"C.J., I really don't want to talk about it right now. Hence the drinking," he replied, swirling the bourbon around in the glass and wondering if ice would make it go down quicker.

"Josh, about earlier…"

"God. Please. C.J., I'm begging. Don't. Now is so definitely not the time for this…"

"Ok… Well, I have some news for you. That's really why I called."

"News? Like what kind of news?" he got up and walked to the kitchen intent on raiding the ice maker.

There was a moment of silence.

"Colin Ayers is in New York. He's trying to sell the photographs to _Newsweek_."

At that, Josh took the glass he held in his hand, surveyed it, and then threw it against the kitchen wall.

"What the hell was that?!" C.J. shouted into the phone – loud enough that Josh winced and had to hold the phone away from his ear.

"That was one of my glasses hitting my kitchen wall," he replied quietly, watching the remainder of the bourbon puddle on the floor below the point of impact and then rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

"Josh…"

"C.J…. He's in New York? How did you find this out?"

"Josh, I'm the former Press Secretary for the White House. I have connections. He's pitching the pictures to Colleen Buchanan tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. However, I have just made a deal with Colleen that will ensure that _Newsweek_ will not buy the shots."

"You made a deal with _Newsweek_?" he asked incredulously, "What kind of deal?"

C.J. was quiet for a minute, "They will pass on the photographs in return for an interview with a senior staffer about the peace talks and the bombing."

Josh sucked in his breath and tried to calm himself – he was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with his back against the wall, mentally counting to 1000, _one…two…three…_

"Who, C.J.?"

She waited a beat and responded, "Leo."

"No, C.J.! We can't bring Leo into this! He's been through too much and he's too sick!" Josh was yelling now, running his hand through his hair and contemplating how much more bourbon he would have to drink to get through this night.

"Josh, there is no negotiation here. I talked it over with Leo before I even called Colleen. I had to have something to offer and he is the only one in a position to talk right now. Plus, this would be his first interview since leaving office and it was a good bargaining chip. Those photographs are worth a great deal out in the news market, Josh. You know that. We had to have something worthwhile to give them. Besides, Leo wants to protect Donna as much as the rest of us."

C.J. heard Josh's shallow breathing on the other end of the line and couldn't tell if he was so frustrated he could barely breathe or so upset he was crying. Either way, she had to tell him the rest of her news.

"Josh, I had Margaret book you on a shuttle flight to New York leaving tomorrow morning at 6:00. Colin's appointment with Colleen is at 9:00. Go to the _Newsweek _offices and ask for Colleen before 9:00, Josh. Just remember, do nothing that will get you in the paper. Do you understand me?"

It suddenly dawned on him what C.J. had done. She had made arrangements for him to meet with Colin – _Newsweek_ would turn down the pictures, but that didn't mean that _Time_ or any of the other national rags would do the same. There were only so many favors the White House could call in on this one. The rest would be up to Josh.

"Yeah. I understand. The 6:00 shuttle."

"Yes. The tickets will be waiting for you at the counter. And, Josh?"

"Yeah?" he mumbled, looking at the broken glass and bourbon and wondering why he hadn't just come home and gone to bed.

"When you get back, go talk to Donna and make it right."

With that, C.J. hung up the phone, leaving Josh to wonder, again, exactly what had happened to his life in the last twelve hours.

(To be continued.)


	6. Photographs 6

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The best review so far has been the one from PhaserLady where she wrote one simple word – "Bastard." Yup, that sums it up. I'm not sure if she means Colin or Josh, but if it's Josh, he's about to redeem himself, folks. Then we get to the stuff that's going to be REALLY hard to write.

Also – props to my significant other because "craptaculous" is his term and to Susie for "I am the cowboy, you are the cow." I told you I would work it in somewhere.

And another small aside – Having watched "The Dover Test" last night, I fear for these two characters (Josh and Donna) and what John Wells has in store.

PHOTOGRAPHS (6)

The New York sky was grey and dismal, matching Josh's mood as he sat in the conference room, looking out the large plate glass windows and deciding, once again, that he didn't like New York. It always seemed to rain during his visits, making the city even more depressing.

Colleen Buchanan had been gracious when they met early that morning. Josh had shown up at the offices of _Newsweek_ at about 8:40, hoping he had arrived before Colin, and called up for the editor as soon as he got into the lobby. Colleen assured him he was the first to show and while the two did not discuss the details of her conversation with C.J., Josh was sure that Colleen knew the reason for his visit.

"Just take a seat in here, Mr. Lyman. When Mr. Ayers arrives, I'll have him shown in."

With that, Josh had taken a seat in one of the deep, leather executive chairs and turned his back on the conference room, contemplating the turn of events that had led him to this point in his life.

The noise of the door opening woke him from his reverie and he steeled himself for the meeting to come. Taking a deep breath, he spun the chair around and took a look at Colin Ayers standing at the other end of the table.

"Not who you expected, is it?" Josh asked, rising from the chair and turning to stand behind it. "Go ahead, take a seat."

"I think I prefer to stand," Colin replied, clearly shaken at the presence of the Deputy Chief of Staff of the White House in a meeting he thought would be a simple business deal with a magazine.

"I don't think you understood me. I wasn't asking. _Sit down_." Josh had his hands on the back of the chair – mostly to keep himself from clenching them – and the chair served as a physical barrier preventing him from climbing across the table and beating the life out of the man on the other side.

Colin thought for a moment and then leisurely took a seat at the opposite end of the conference room table. He surveyed Josh with a somewhat distanced air, giving the impression there were one hundred other things he would rather be doing at that point in time.

"You know why we are both here," Josh started, "so we can cut through the polite shit and get down to business."

Colin began to speak, but Josh cut him off.

"No. You will sit there and listen to me and when we are done, you will leave and this matter will be finished."

Josh continued, "I've seen the photographs. Nice work."

"It's what I do," Colin interjected.

"Oh, I don't doubt that," Josh smirked, "Tell me something… did you feel even the smallest amount of remorse when you cashed the check you got for those photographs? Did you think of her bleeding in that car at all when you sold them? Because I can't imagine sleeping with a woman one night, watching her burn in a car the next and still stopping to take pictures, let alone selling them for money. Did your conscience bother you even the smallest bit?"

Colin opened his mouth again, but the steely tone in Josh's voice stopped him before a sound came out.

"It took me a while to figure out that you were the one to send her that magazine. An exceptionally touching gesture, now that I think about it. Trying to soften her up before it appeared in the more major American news journals?"

"I wanted…" the photographer started.

"_Shut up. _ I'm talking and I don't give a fuck what you want… Let me tell you something, the minute you sold those pictures, you traded away the rest of your life to me. I have at my disposal the Secret Service, the 110th Mountain Division and the 82nd Airborne, let alone the power of the President of the United States, if I were to tell him what is going on here. You can rest assured that for the rest of your days, I will have someone watching you. If you take a piss in the woods in Iceland, I will know which tree you used and how long it took. If you eat dinner at a restaurant in Bombay, I'll know how much it cost, who you were with and where you fucked her afterward. It's awfully hard to do a job like yours when you're surrounded and watched, because I guarantee you that if I know where you are, everyone else in every country you visit will know as well. You will be wearing a bullseye on your back no matter what deserted wasteland you try and escape to. You are a cow, and I, my friend, I am the cowboy and I will have a rope around your neck so tight that you will wish you had never stopped to talk to her that day in the bar. And more than anything, I assure you, God as my witness, you hurt her again and there is nowhere in this world you will hide from me."

Colin looked at Josh and blinked.

"No one hurts her without going through me," Josh stated, staring down the Irishman, "and now you have to go through me."

Josh slid a document across the table to Colin, "Sign it."

"What?"

"I said, '_Sign it_.'" Josh repeated, an angry tone now sliding into what had been a previously calm voice.

"What is it?" Colin asked, picking up the document and beginning to read.

"It is a Confidentiality Agreement. You won't discuss this meeting, you won't discuss your relationship with Donna, and you will not sell those photographs to anyone else. Ever."

"I'm not signing this! You're crazy!" Colin laughed, throwing the papers down on the table.

Josh crossed his arms and took a deep breath, "I don't think you understand me. Sign the Agreement. Take your miserable life and get out of here. Do it. And if I ever see those photographs again, what I do to you _legally _will be the least of your problems."

The two men stared at one another. It was a game of chicken and Colin blinked first.

Reaching for a pen from the table, he signed the Agreement, threw down the pen, picked up his bag and started for the door. Opening the door, he heard Josh's voice behind him. Turning, he saw the other man in profile, staring out the window to the busy street below.

"You know, you have yourself to thank for this…" Josh started. "You told me not to take her for granted." At this, Josh turned his head to look at the photographer.

"You can rest assured that I am not."

(To be continued.)


	7. Photographs 7

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Here is where we go into Spoiler land… I do hate to go back and read what people have done to stories when the show has taken a different tack, but I'm going to go ahead and write this anyway. There are spoilers in here for mid-season 6, but I won't tell you what they are.

I'm not liking the way Josh has become an asshole in the show, but I'm going to take it and work with it. I can see where it brings up potential for good storylines, but then again, I won't get my hopes up too much.

Props to Susie and Birdie for encouraging me to keep writing… Thank you, my friends. You are truly goddesses in this realm.

PHOTOGRAPHS (7)

_How long did you wait before you fucked him, Donna? Did you even wait to finish the first drink?_

Looking out the window of his office, his feet propped on the sill, Josh thought back over those words and wondered what had possessed him to say them out loud. In the three weeks since that fateful night, his entire life, professional and personal, had entered a realm of misery he had never before experienced. Not in the time after the shooting, or the MS disclosure, or even the days after Donna's liaison with Cliff Cauley and the diary.

_I'm not yours, Josh. You don't own me. I can do as I please._

He never thought she would act on those words.

XXXXXXXX

When he had gotten back from New York, he had rushed into C.J.'s office, flush with his victory.

"Victory is mine!"

C.J. looked up at him, lifting one eyebrow and gently setting down her coffee cup.

"Victory is mine!!!" Josh threw himself down in the visitor's chair and mocked shining his nails on his lapel, "I am da man."

"I see," said C.J. "Was there a need to call the police? Do I need to warn Toby about possible questions from the press at his next briefing?"

Josh turned serious. "No. I got him to sign this," he said tossing the Confidentiality Agreement on her desk, "and I don't believe we will hear from him again."

C.J. looked at the Agreement and up at Josh, "You can't tell me that you drafted this."

Josh looked offended, "I have a law degree, Claudia Jean…"

"And you've never practiced a day in your life, Joshua! You aren't admitted to a single bar in the United States! Well, not the kind of bars that matter," she laughed, shaking her head at him.

Josh looked at his feet and smiled, "No. I didn't write it. I called Sam last night and he put it together for me."

"Spanky? Well, at least we know that it's legally binding then…" C.J. nodded, setting the document aside on her desk. "He's really going to abide by this?"

"Oh yeah," he replied, the steely look in his eye taking her breath away momentarily. "You can count on it."

Wisely, C.J. let the point die there, not wanting to know any details in case, God forbid, she saw another grand jury subpoena one day. Looking at Josh she noted how tired he seemed and how much older he looked from that day when she met him on Bartlet's first campaign.

Looking up and catching her eye, Josh asked, "What?"

"I was noticing how tired you look," she replied, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. "When was the last time you had a good night's sleep?"

"Yeah, well, I can't sleep if I'm busy fighting the good fight," his laugh sounding far from genuine. He waited a few minutes and then asked, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot," she replied.

"Ever wonder what we are doing here? I mean, it was really clear to me when we started, but now…" Josh made a questioning gesture with his hands.

"Yeah. Sometimes," C.J. admitted with a deep sigh. "But, it's what we do."

"I guess," he replied, looking down at his hands, the silence settling uncomfortably between them. "It's funny. I talk to Matt Santos and I see the way we used to be. I wonder where along the line we changed."

"Is he going to run again?" C.J. asked, knowing that Josh had been working on the Texas congressman for weeks.

"He says no, but I keep trying," he replied smiling, the dimples coming out for the first time in several days. "He's the real thing, C.J. _The real thing_."

The two sat in silence for a moment, remembering what it was like to work with "the real thing" as they had in the first campaign. Things had certainly changed over the years and they had all been through more than anyone had ever anticipated.

"C.J.," Josh started, leaning forward with his arms on his thighs, "About what I said the other night…"

"Josh. It's ok. I know you were upset. And in some respects, you were right."

"No, C.J. I was way out of line. What you told Donna… you were right. I have been holding her back because I don't want to be without her. It wasn't fair to her at all."

"Josh…"

"No, really. I've been thinking about what you said and what Donna said and you were both right." He was looking at his hands, refusing to meet her eye.

"Then why don't you go tell her that?" C.J. asked quietly.

"I don't think that is going to happen any time soon," his laugh was dry and harsh, "Things have been said that can't be taken back."

"You two have fought before. You always make up."

"Yeah," he said, getting to his feet and making his way to the door, "But I don't know about this time."

XXXXXXXX

He had returned to his office, noticing that Donna's desk was empty. After taking off his coat and throwing his backpack on a chair he went back out into the bullpen to check on his messages. When he got to Donna's desk, he noted that it looked like she hadn't been in at all that day. He walked over to Ginger, trying to act nonchalant, hiding the fact he was deeply worried.

"Ginger, have you seen Donna?"

Ginger looked up from her computer, "She called out today, Josh."

"Out?"

"Yeah, out. Sick. Not here."

"Oh, ok…" he muttered wandering back to his office. As he sat behind his desk, he resisted the urge to call her, knowing that he was probably the reason why she was avoiding the White House. Donna never called in sick. Every ten minutes, he caught himself picking up the phone, dialing her number, and then hanging up before the ringing began.

At about 8:00 that evening, after most of the staff in the bullpen had left, Josh was sitting at his desk staring out the window. A noise in his doorway caused him to spin around in his chair – C.J. was standing against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Whatcha thinking about?"

"Nothing. What are you doing over here? Don't you have things to torment Margaret with?"

C.J. walked in and sat down in the chair across the desk, "No. I sent her home. It's an easy night tonight."

"Yeah. I guess it is."

Clearing her throat and looking uncomfortable, C.J. leaned forward, "Josh, Donna called me this afternoon."

He looked up at C.J. with a questioning expression, "What's up?"

"Josh, she got a job offer."

Josh blinked twice and opened and closed his mouth several times. C.J. watched him closely, not wishing to have another fight with him. One encounter with the Lyman temper in the course of two days was more than enough for her.

"A job offer?" Josh sputtered, "From who?"

"It came from Russell's office. They want her to work on his campaign."

"The Vice President has offered her a job?!" Josh sat back in his seat and rubbed his face.

"Yes… And she's going to take it," C.J. let the words sit in the air between them, carefully watching Josh's reaction.

Josh stood up, shoved the chair back and started to pace. Running his hands through his hair and then shoving them in and out of his pockets, he made the perfect picture of a man who was holding onto himself with a great deal of effort.

"What's the job?"

"She's going to be Communications Director for the campaign. She'll start next week."

"Next week?" Josh stopped pacing and looked at C.J. She thought she could see his heart breaking. She wanted to try and convince him that this would be a good choice for Donna, but knew that if she pushed the issue too far, he would explode.

"Yes, Josh. Next week. This is a great opportunity for her."

Josh threw himself down in his chair and put his head in his hands. "Yeah. It is." The events of the last few days were rushing through his head, and his arguments with C.J. and Donna were echoing in the back of his mind.

_I'm still just another faceless cog in the administrative wheel. I don't really matter and that depresses me._

_She's not going to go anywhere working for you because you won't let her go._

_I am nothing outside of that job – I have no life, no future that doesn't surround making sure you get to the right meeting on time!_

"Josh…"

"C.J., I don't want to talk about this. Not right now."

"Josh. Don't freak out on her. It's not what she needs right now," she said, getting up from the chair and moving toward the door, "She's putting her life back together."

Josh took his hands away from his eyes and looked up at C.J.

"Putting her life back together?" he mused, "Yeah."

_While mine is falling apart._

XXXXX

When she returned to work the next day, Donna mentioned nothing about the new job. In fact, it went unmentioned between the two of them for the remainder of her time as assistant to the DCoS. It was the big pink elephant in the corner that they both refused to acknowledge.

Josh would often stop and look at her, wondering what had happened between them, wondering what he would do when she was gone, and then stopping that line of thought as he felt the lump begin in his throat. There were times when he thought she was looking at him, but when he lifted his head, the doorway was empty. They danced around each other for days, talking only when necessary. The rest of the staff was acutely aware of the tension and everyone gave them both a wide berth.

The evening of her last day, there was a small party in the bullpen. He had wanted to join them, but felt his presence wasn't necessarily welcome. After all, he had let everyone assume he was the bad guy (_wasn't he_?) and he knew that the other assistants viewed him with nothing short of contempt. He was certain that they all believed he had driven Donna out by being a total asshole of a boss and he didn't do anything to change that perception.

As he put on his coat and slung his backpack over his shoulder hoping to sneak out unnoticed, he caught sight of her, laughing with Ginger, Margaret and Carol, her head thrown back and her eyes sparkling. He was suddenly reminded of the photograph on her bookshelf from the Inaugural.

_What has happened to us?_ he thought. _ I should have begged her to stay. I should have told her that everything she said was right. I should have explained why I did what I did. I should have…_

Shaking his head and running a hand over his eyes, he turned and headed toward the lobby. Tonight was her night. She was at the very edge of a whole new life, a new career and a new position of independence. It was everything she had been wanting and he knew he couldn't stand in her way.

The time for talking was over and, for once, Josh Lyman held his tongue and walked away.

(To be continued.)


	8. Photographs 8

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Wow. This entire story has taken on a life of its own. Where we are right now, and where we are going, isn't necessarily what I had in mind when I started, but hey… who am I to challenge the muse, right?

Thank you to all who have left reviews. They have definitely served as motivation to continue and without all of you this story would have ended a long time ago.

PHOTOGRAPHS (8)

"Gail, what do you think of that new anchor on the NBC Evening News?"

Donna Moss chuckled to herself in the doorway to C.J.'s office. Certainly the press would have a field day if they knew the most powerful woman in the United States was discussing men with her goldfish.

"Donna!" C.J. exclaimed, looking up from the fishbowl. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to tell you that I agree with Gail. The new guy is quite cute," Donna replied striding across the office and giving C.J. a warm hug.

"How are you?" she asked the older woman, noting the extra lines around C.J.'s eyes and the air of solemnity that she had taken on with the title of Chief of Staff.

"Good, good!" C.J. replied, waving Donna into one of the visitors chairs on the other side of the big desk. "And you? How is life in the private sector? Do you like working for Russell's campaign?"

Donna's face brightened at the mention of her new job, "Oh, C.J. I have an office. An office! With a door and everything. And a staff! I have my own assistant! I feel like Alice down the rabbit hole!"

C.J. laughed and leaned back in her chair. After only three weeks at the new job, Donna had developed an air of independence and confidence she had lacked in her years in the White House. The blonde was holding her head higher and spoke in a more self-assured manner than ever before – a far cry from the naïve woman who had talked her way into the Bartlet campaign all those years before.

"So what brings you to our neck of the woods?" C.J. asked, knowing that Donna had not been back to the White House since her departure several weeks before.

"Ginger and I are going to lunch," Donna replied, looking down at her hands nervously, "Josh is on the Hill for the rest of the afternoon…."

His name hung in the air awkwardly between them. C.J. had known that things had been terribly strained between them in the days before Donna's departure and that Josh had been miserable since then.

"C.J.?" Donna asked, "How is he?"

C.J. looked up at Donna and noted the concern in the younger woman's eyes. "You haven't talked to him?"

"No…," Donna looked at her hands and started to pick at the hem of her skirt. "I know that Ginger will tell me about how he is in the office and I _know_ how that conversation is going to go, but I figured you would tell me how he is _really_."

C.J. sighed, "Donna, you know that it's not your fault. You aren't responsible for him."

"C.J…"

After a moment's silence, C.J. took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, "He's miserable, Donna. He yells at Ginger and the rest of the staff and when he's not yelling, he's in his office with the door shut. He won't talk to anyone and he looks like he hasn't eaten in about two weeks."

Donna looked up at C.J., tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and took a deep breath, "Thank you, C.J."

"Donna…"

The younger woman stood up and smoothed down her skirt, "I should go. Ginger is going to be waiting for me."

"Donna, you aren't responsible for him."

"I know. I just needed to know how he is doing," she replied, her hand on the door.

C.J. stood, "It was good to see you."

"It was good to see you too, C.J.," Donna smiled opening the door and walking through.

C.J. sat heavily in her chair and stared at the door through which Donna had just exited.

"Gail, what are we going to do with those two?"

XXXXXX

Ginger was busy typing notes at her desk (_My old desk_, Donna noted) when she walked into the bullpen.

"Can you give me just a minute?" Ginger asked, looking up from her computer screen, "He's going to want these when he gets back from the Hill and I want to make sure they are done before we leave…"

"Sure," Donna replied, wandering around aimlessly.

"I'll be just a minute."

Donna found herself glancing toward Josh's office and soon, much to her own dismay, was standing in the doorway. It was messy as always, papers and files stacked everywhere, the chalkboard covered in names and vote tallies. Donna took a few steps inside and noted the familiar feeling welling up inside of her as she looked around. Suddenly, her attention was seized by a photograph on the wall behind Josh's desk. Walking over to take a closer look, she realized that it was a photograph of the two of them taken at one of the balls for Bartlet's second Inaugural. They were together on the dance floor, closer than one would have imagined for a boss and assistant, and they were both laughing and looking into each other's eyes.

_God, he's so handsome_, she thought. _And I was too obvious for my own good._

"He got that from the Press Office after you left," the deep male voice behind her stated.

Donna turned to find Toby leaning against the door jamb, hands buried deep in his pockets.

"He hounded me until we found the pictures from the Inaugural. He picked that one," Toby nodded to the picture on the wall.

Donna looked back at the picture for a moment, a lump forming in her throat, "It's a good picture."

"Yeah."

"Toby…"

"I don't know what was said between the two of you. I know Josh and I know what a fool he can be. But there is something you need to know about him, and whatever you decide to do, that's your business."

Taken aback by Toby's tone, Donna simply nodded and said "Go ahead."

"When we got news of the bombing, and we had no idea if you were going to live or die, he was devastated. He walked around here like a ghost, Donna. He was inconsolable. And when Leo told him he could go to be with you, he didn't hesitate. Not once."

Toby watched her as he talked, knowing that whatever had happened in the past, and whatever actions she took in the future, she needed to know these things.

"And after those pictures were published in that magazine, he went to New York and got that photographer to sign an agreement never to sell them again," Donna's head flew up at the mention of Colin, "C.J. arranged for it and Josh pulled it off. I know he didn't tell you, and for the life of me, I don't know why, but I think you need to know."

Donna turned back to look at the picture on Josh's wall, remembering a time when everything had been in front of them.

"Anyway," Toby said in a low voice, turning to leave the office, "I thought you should know."

"Toby!"

"Yeah," he replied, looking at her up from underneath of his brows in a patented "Toby" look that had either melted hearts or frightened interns all over the White House.

"Thank you."

A few moments later, Ginger's voice brought Donna out of a fog of memories.

"Are you ready?" Ginger asked, walking into the office, one arm through the arm of her coat.

"Yes," Donna said, collecting herself and following the other woman through the lobby and outside, "I'm ready."

Toby watched the two young women leave and then looked back through the doorway into Josh's office to the photograph on the wall. Shaking his head, he went back into his office and slammed the door.

XXXXXX

Later that afternoon, Josh came back from Capitol Hill, wearily dropping his backpack on the floor and throwing himself into his office chair. Running his hands through his hair and then rubbing his eyes, he didn't notice Toby standing just inside of the doorway.

"Donna was here today."

"Jesus, Toby!" Josh shouted, jumping a foot out of his chair, "I've had heart surgery, you know! Shit like that can kill a person."

"You're too ornery and stupid to die anytime soon, Josh," Toby noted, hiding a small smile.

"She was here?" Josh asked, looking up at the older man.

"Yeah. She and Ginger were going out somewhere."

"How did she look?" The question was meant to be nonchalant, but Toby knew better.

"She looked good."

"Happy?"

"I guess," Toby replied, "Why don't you call her and ask her?"

Josh laughed hollowly and looked out the window, "That's not possible at the moment. I don't think she necessarily wants to talk to me."

"Do you want to talk to her?"

The younger man turned and Toby was shocked at the depth of feeling expressed in his eyes.

"Yeah."

"Like I said, you're ornery and stupid." With that, Toby nodded and left the room.

Josh looked out the window for a moment longer and then turned to his computer screen. His breath was taken away by a post-it note, written in that familiar illegible handwriting, stuck on the screen in front of him. Reaching out, he removed it and looked at it, tears forming in his eyes.

_I remember that dance,_

_D_

(To be continued.)


	9. Photographs 9

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, this chapter presents the perfect opportunity for some cheap porn or even cheaper fluff, but I'm going to restrain myself. Both of the characters are too elegant for that. Plus, it would ruin where I want to take the story. So don't yell at me.

PHOTOGRAPHS (9)

Josh was passing through the bullpen when the voice of the newscaster stopped him in his tracks.

"…_exploded in Gaza. I repeat, there has been a report that a convoy of peacekeepers and American officials has been attacked in Gaza. There have been several explosions…"_

Josh tried to focus on the television, but felt himself being shot back in time to the news of the CODEL attack. _Donna? Where is Donna? _ Shaking his head and trying to get a grip on himself, he forced his feet to take him to C.J.'s office to see what needed to be done.

When he arrived, C.J. was watching the same report on CNN, shaking her head in disbelief.

"This is never going to stop, is it?"

"No. It's not," he replied, mesmerized by the film rolling on the television screen.

"Look, I have to go in with the President," C.J. stated, collecting files and papers off of her desk. "Hold down the fort for me?"

"Yeah, no problem."

Josh remained fixated on the television as C.J. left the office to go report to the President. He couldn't shake the feeling of déjà vu.

XXXXX

It was late that night, after they had determined the number of dead and the President had made the requisite phone calls, that Josh, C.J. and Toby got together in Toby's office for a beer and some time to decompress.

"I don't think I will ever get used to this," C.J. said to no one in particular, taking a long pull on her beer and putting her feet up on the coffee table.

"What?" Josh said, "Sitting in the White House drinking beer, being Chief of Staff to the leader of the free world, or having to deal with National crises on a daily basis?"

C.J. took another swig from the beer bottle and said, "All of the above."

"That's nice," Toby replied from behind his desk, "Gives me comfort to know that the people running this country are completely uncomfortable doing so."

"Toby!" C.J. laughed, "That's…"

There was a knock on the door and all three looked up to see Ginger standing in the doorway.

"I thought I told you to go home," Josh said, shifting in his seat.

"You did. I had a couple of things to finish… You have a phone call," Ginger told him, still hovering in the doorway.

"Take a message, will you?" Josh said running his hands through his hair.

"I think you should take this," Ginger pushed, looking at C.J. and Toby uncomfortably.

"Unless it's Angelina Jolie calling for a date.."

"Or Mike Piazza calling to say 'Dude'," C.J. interjected laughing.

"Or that, yes," Josh laughed, "I don't want to talk to them."

"Josh," Ginger said softly, "It's Donna."

Josh's head snapped up to look at Ginger and C.J. and Toby looked at one another questioningly. It was common knowledge that the silence between Josh and Donna had not gotten any better and that even mentioning her name put him in a ferocious mood for the rest of the day.

Leaping out of the chair and brushing by Ginger, Josh ran to his office and picked up the blinking phone extension.

"Donna?"

He heard weeping on the other end of the phone and he began to panic, "Donna, are you ok? Where are you?"

"Josh…please…please, come help me."

The words were hard to make out through the sobs and Josh tried hard to fight the terror in his own breast as he talked to her, _Where is she? What happened?_

"Donna? Where are you?"

"Home…"

"Ok, I'll be there in a few minutes, ok?"

He heard the phone go dead. Grabbing his coat and his backpack, he ran out of the White House and to his car.

XXXXXX

Climbing the stairs to her apartment, Josh was happy that he had never returned her apartment key to her after she left to go work for Russell. He had contemplated mailing it to her, but couldn't bring himself to part with it. Mentally, he would chastise himself for being a stalker, but in his heart, he had always hoped he would have occasion to use it again.

Stopping short at her door, he knocked softly. There was no answer. He knocked a little harder and said her name. Still no answer. Pulling out his keyring, he found her key and opened the apartment door slowly, not wanting to scare her if she had not heard his initial knocks.

Walking into the apartment, Josh noticed that things were in a state of disarray, shoes haphazardly strewn on the floor, a coat thrown over the back of the chair in the hallway. As he moved further into living room, he noticed that the television was playing CNN – a constant newscast of the recent Gaza attack. They had moved on to replaying coverage of the CODEL attack, presenting a retrospective of violence in the region in the past year. It was at this point that Josh began to realize what may have happened and began to get increasingly concerned.

"Donna?"

He moved into the kitchen where an ice tray had been left to melt on the counter next to a glass and a bottle of soda. It appeared that whatever had happened, Donna had been interrupted in the middle of her evening routine.

"Donna!"

Josh moved faster through the apartment, truly scared now for what he might find. Opening the bedroom door, he heard muffled sobs in the corner. Rather than turning on the light, he relied upon the streetlights coming in through the double windows to guide him across the room to where Donna was sitting, knees to her chin, head buried in her arms. Josh could see her rocking back and forth, sobs wracking her body.

"Donna?" He knelt down beside her, careful not to touch her. "It's Josh."

The sobs continued and Josh was unsure if she could hear him. He remembered his own post-traumatic stress attack that Christmas at the White House and knew that she might be in a world of her own making that didn't include the immediate world.

"Donna, it's Josh," he said firmly, but softly, "I'm here."

Putting his arms around her, he tried to silence the rocking while at the same time, not restrain her forcefully. At first, she seemed to resist his embrace, but after a moment, she leaned against him and slid her arms around his neck. Josh was still uncertain that Donna truly knew what was going on, but he thought that he was making a little progress.

"It's okay, Donnatella," he whispered, "Let it out."

After about ten minutes of silently sitting and letting her cry, Josh noticed that the sobs had become quieter and the rocking less frantic. Brushing the hair out of her eyes and away from her face, Josh kept whispering to her in an effort to bring her back to the current reality.

"Josh…," she said finally, taking a deep breath to calm her sobs.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

He gasped quietly and was certain his heart was going to break. "There is nothing you need to be sorry about, Donnatella. Least of all to me."

"I shouldn't have called. It's just… I saw the television… the attack…," she seemed to begin to lose her composure again and Josh held her tighter, hoping she would get strength from his grip.

"Donna, you know you can call me any time. I'm always here for you," he said, his voice catching in his throat. "And I know what you are going through right now. I'm here."

They sat for a little while longer in silence until Josh pulled his arms from around her and kneeled in front of her, "Why don't you go take a warm shower, ok? It'll make you feel better. I'll make you a cup of tea."

In the shadows, he could see her nod in agreement, "Yes, that sounds good."

"Ok." Josh stood up and reached down for her. Donna put her hands in his and slowly stood up, unsteady on her feet. He walked her to the bathroom and made sure she was inside before he headed to the kitchen.

Walking by the television, he turned off the newscast, selecting instead, an old black-and-white movie he recognized but couldn't place. _Donna would know_, he thought. He collected the shoes from the middle of the floor and hung the coat up in the hall closet. Moving to the kitchen, he put on the tea-kettle and cleaned up the ice tray and the pool of water on the counter. Josh moved back into the bedroom and stood by the bathroom door, he knocked and opened it just a crack, "Donna? You ok?"

"Yes. I'm fine," was the reply, barely audible over the sound of the water. "I'll be out in a minute."

He stepped away from the door, turned on a small light on the bedside table, and went back out into the kitchen where the tea-kettle was screaming. After pouring water into two cups and carrying them out to the living room, he sat down on the sofa and waited.

A few minutes later, Donna emerged from the bedroom dressed in flannel pajama bottoms and one of his old Harvard t-shirts.

"I wondered what happened to that t-shirt," Josh joked, sliding down to one end of the sofa.

Sheepishly looking down at the shirt, Donna replied, "I meant to give this back… it just never happened."

"It's ok," Josh said, "It looks better on you than it ever did on me."

Donna sat down on the sofa, tucking her feet up underneath of her, and held the cup of tea in both hands. Josh studied her carefully over the rim of his cup, noting the dark circles under her eyes and the pallor in her face. The weeks since he had seen he had made her look older, more mature, and at the same time, more vulnerable. Donna caught him looking at her and began to blush.

"Stop looking at me," she said shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

"Sorry," he said, grinning, "it's just been a while since I've seen you."

Donna looked up at him and then looked away, "I know."

"Donna, I…," he started, trying to figure out how to put a million apologies into a single sentence. Looking at her sitting there, the words died on his lips and he simply held out his hand.

Setting down her cup, Donna took his hand and curled up next to him on the sofa, her head on his chest. Josh reached up and pulled down the afghan that was on the back of the sofa and wrapped it around them both. He rested his chin on her head and thought of how comfortable it felt to have her next to him. It was almost as if the last several weeks had never happened.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Donna sighed and mumbled against his chest, "I don't know. I came home, turned on the TV and saw the pictures of the attack. All of a sudden, everything came back to me in a flash…"

Josh pulled her closer and rubbed his hands up and down her arm.

"I didn't know what to do and all I could think was that I needed to talk to you," she whispered, her grip on the front of his shirt getting tighter.

"I'm glad you did," he replied, speaking the words into her hair. "I'm here for as long as you need me."

They sat silently for a while, Donna's grip on his shirt relaxing until Josh realized she had gone to sleep. He slid down into the couch a little more, settled her weight comfortably on his chest and contemplated what had happened. Looking around the room, his gaze rested on the Inaugural Ball photograph on the shelf. He thought about the note that Donna had left in his office and all the things that had happened between the night he had said those horrible words and her phone call this evening.

Josh tightened his arms around her, kissed the top of her head and settled down to sleep.

(To be continued.)


	10. Photographs 10

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's incredibly tempting to go ahead and just put these two together. But I can't forget what Josh said to her and I can't make Donna do so either. So we'll just see where the muse takes us, won't we?

Also, this is sort of a transitional chapter… I don't expect much more than for it to move us from one place to another… Sorry.

PHOTOGRAPHS (10)

Waking up the next morning, it took Josh a moment to figure out where he was and who was sleeping on top of him. It had been a long time since he and Donna had fallen asleep together and he reveled in the comfortable feeling it left inside of him. He remembered that it had been a common occurrence on the campaigns, either on the bus or on Air Force One, and he had never thought twice about it. _Funny how things change_, he thought.

Reaching up to stroke her long blonde hair, he thought back over the events of the last several months and caught his breath at the thought that she had been so close to being taken away from him. Colin's photograph of the burning truck flashed in his mind and everything he had meant to say for all of these months, the things he had held inside because he was terrified to share them, came spilling out of his mouth.

"Donna, I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry for what I said the other night. I was so jealous. After all the gomers and dolts you had been with, Colin was the first one I felt afraid of losing you to. He was standing there in your hospital room and you kissed him and I was so jealous I could barely breathe. And after I saw those pictures, I was jealous he was there when the attack happened. I should have been the one there. I should have been there when you needed me. I had always meant to be there to protect you and the one time I wasn't you nearly died."

Josh took a breath and continued, "I'm sorry I sent you on that trip, Donna. If I had known, if I had any idea you would be in danger, I wouldn't have sent you. I hope you know that. Not a day goes by that I don't want to go back and change everything. I am so very sorry."

He held her closer and felt the tears start down his face. It was the first time, since C.J. came and told him about the attack, that he let himself cry. He had been close, several times, but he had always been afraid that Donna would see, or that if he started he wouldn't be able to stop, so he kept it all inside. After she had left to work for the Vice President's campaign, he felt he needed to keep a strict hold on himself because if he let himself go, he knew he would fracture into a million pieces and never be able to gather himself together again.

"I miss you so much, I miss having you around, I miss you keeping me together, I miss simply having you near me. I screwed things up, Donna, and I am so incredibly sorry."

A few moments passed while Josh held on to her tightly and cried softly into her hair.

"Josh," Donna whispered, her head still against his chest, "It's not your fault."

Trying to gather himself together, he chided her, "I didn't know you were awake."

"Well," she replied, "it would have been a useless apology if I hadn't been awake to hear it, now wouldn't it."

"I was just practicing."

"Really?" she laughed, sitting up next to him and looking him in the eye, "That one was good enough."

Josh looked at her, the tears running down his face, and smiled, the infamous Lyman dimples showing for the first time in ages. Donna reached up and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

"Josh, it's not your fault. I begged to go, remember? I would go again if you gave me the opportunity."

"I sent you there, Donna. I sent you there and you almost died. I don't know if I can live with that knowledge," he said to her in a small and pained voice.

"Joshua Lyman, stop it! Don't you think I wished I had been there that night in Rosslyn? Don't you think that for months afterward I woke up at night wishing that I had been with you when you were shot? Thinking maybe I could have stopped it?"

Josh looked at her in wonder. Never, in the years since the shooting, had Donna mentioned that night in Rosslyn in such terms. She had always danced around talking about the event and never spoke about it directly, particularly with him.

"I learned to live with the knowledge that I wasn't there, Josh. That there was nothing I could do to change what happened. You have to do the same thing."

Holding his face in both of her hands, she continued in a softer voice, "I don't blame you, Joshua. Please don't blame yourself."

He looked at her for a moment and then glanced away, the emotion between them was almost palpable and he needed a moment to get a hold on himself. There had been a few times in their relationship when this kind of moment had arisen and Josh had always relied upon the fact that he was her employer and she was his employee to keep them in line. That relationship didn't exist anymore and he had no idea what would happen without that barrier in place.

"What I said the other night…" he started, feeling the need to get those awful words out in the open and resolved.

"I haven't forgotten it. And I haven't forgiven you," she said, standing up slowly and moving toward the kitchen. Josh looked down at his hands, knowing whatever she said he deserved.

At that point, Josh's pager went off. Reaching down he noted that it was a White House number and he jumped up to grab the phone. Dialing the number, he stood in the doorway to the kitchen watching Donna make coffee while he spoke to the person on the other end, "Uh-huh… yeah… yeah… When?... Okay… give me an hour and I'll be there."

Josh hung up the phone and cleared his throat, "I have to get back to the White House."

"Gaza?" she asked, her eyes wide, remembering the events of the day before.

Josh nodded silently and grabbed her hands, "Are you going to be okay? Should I have someone come over to sit with you?"

Donna looked up at him and smiled, "No. I'll be fine. I'm going to call Stanley's guy today. You don't have to worry. My windows will be safe."

He smiled at her weakly, "Can I call you later?"

She studied him carefully, noting the wrinkled suit, the sleepy eyes and the wild hair. In the weeks since their falling out, she had missed him… missed talking to her best friend, teasing him about his lack of social graces and inability to take care of himself, sharing his french fries, and simply being near him. She had been shocked at the depth of emotion he had expressed in his "apology" and knew that whatever there was between them, they had crossed a line that had been etched in the sand for the previous years of their relationship.

"Yes, you can call," she said, looking down at the coffee pot in her hands.

"Ok," he said, grinning and bouncing on the balls of his feet. He turned to gather his coat and start out the door.

"Josh?"

"Yeah?" he was standing with the front door open, ready to run down the stairs.

"Thank you."

He smiled at her and then disappeared.

(To be continued.)


	11. Photographs 11

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The power… the power… the things an author can make the characters do. Ok, now that that little egotistical trip is over, let's get back to the story.

PHOTOGRAPHS (11)

The sounds of Yo-Yo Ma's cello hung in the air like incense as Josh sat in his office chair, his feet on his desk, beer in his hand. Two years ago, he would have been unable to stay in the same room with the haunting melodies, but time had healed part of that wound and he had learned to appreciate the beauty in the mellow tones that came from his CD-player.

Looking up, he saw C.J. standing in his doorway.

"Yo-Yo Ma rules," he joked, giving her a weak smile.

"I'm surprised you listen to this," she remarked, waving at the source of the music with her wineglass, "after, you know…"

"Donna bought it for me last year. She said it was time for me to face my demons," he replied, looking down into his beer bottle as if he would find the answer to all of his questions there if he searched hard enough.

C.J. sat down across from him, "They're asking about you upstairs. They all wonder where you are."

The President and First Lady were having an informal dinner to welcome Leo back to the White House in his new role as Senior Advisor to the President. All senior staff and their assistants were in attendance.

Josh looked up at her, "Remember the time you found me down here…"

"Listening to _Ave Maria_? Yeah, I remember…"

"I gave the card back that night," he told her, "I couldn't keep it."

"I know."

He thought for a moment, "When I realized what it meant, it occurred to me that I never thought we would ever be apart, all of us."

"What do you mean?" C.J. sat back in her chair and sipped from her wine glass.

"It never occurred to me that we all wouldn't always be together. And you know what's funny? I still find it hard to believe that we all are going to go our separate ways – hell, some of us have already," Josh said softly, "I never really thought that this would end."

"Really?" she replied incredulously, "You never considered the possibility? Not with the MS thing? Or the re-election campaign?"

"No. Never. I was always too into the fight to consider what I would do if there wasn't a fight anymore. Well, until recently."

C.J. studied him, noting the wear of the years he had been fighting for the President, the sadness in his eyes that had replaced some of the fire of his youth.

"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to wake up in the morning," Josh asked, "like Joe Smith? White picket fence, Volvo, 2.5 kids, with the simple life? Where just paying the bills and figuring out what football game to watch on Sunday were your biggest problems?"

"No, actually, I haven't," C.J. said.

"I have," he responded, looking past her to a spot on the wall, "Lately, I've been wondering why we stayed in the fight. Why we didn't give up? Hell, we've been given enough reasons."

She thought for a moment and then waved her hands as if to point out the obvious.

"We're here because we live for the fight, Josh. _You_ live for the fight. It's what you do. It's who you are. If you wanted to give up, you would have done so after you were shot. No one would have blamed you. Or after the President told us about the MS. Or after the shit with Carrick. But you didn't. You didn't because you believe in the fight. We all do."

"You know what they asked me tonight? The President and Leo?" Josh asked, and not waiting for her response, he continued, "They asked me to go find a candidate for President."

"I know."

He looked up quickly and nodded, "Of course. They must have talked to you first to make sure it was ok with you."

C.J. laughed, "Yeah… they had to make sure I wouldn't implode if my Deputy suddenly decided to resign."

Josh quietly sat for a moment. "Why me, C.J.?"

Stretching her legs out in front of her, C.J. looked at the glass in her hands trying to formulate an answer that would make sense of the feeling she had in her heart, "Because you know the real thing when you see it, Josh. Russell isn't it. He's not the one to carry on our legacy. He's a moron with nice hair and the country doesn't want him any more than _we_ did in the first place. I know that, you know that, Leo knows that, and the President knows that. They trust you to find the right guy and make him win."

Josh thought back to Jed Bartlet's words from earlier in the evening.

"_Leo and I are old men, Josh. Our time has come and gone and we are reaching the end of our tenure in the national spotlight. You, you are just beginning. You are a king-maker. I don't doubt that if you had stayed with Hoynes all those years ago, you and I wouldn't be standing here now having this conversation. It's time for you to do it again. It's time for you to go find the real thing and bring him here."_

_Josh looked from the President to Leo and back again. These two men were the closest thing he had to a father and they were standing here asking him to risk everything for honor and righteousness._

"_Mr. President, Leo… I'm not sure…," he started._

"_Josh," Leo interrupted, looking so much older than he had those years ago when they talked by the reflecting pool about a Governor named Bartlet and a trip to New Hampshire._

"_Leo," Josh pleaded, "Russell is the party nominee. He has it in the bag."_

"_Josh, go find our guy," Leo quietly stated, looking Josh in the eye, "It's what sons do for old friends of their fathers."_

"I could just wait for the President to leave office and then go work as a consultant for someone," he said, running his free hand through his hair, "I mean, isn't that what people like us do?"

"Didn't you listen to a word I just said?" she asked him in an exasperated tone, "That's not what we do!"

"C.J…."

C.J. studied him closely, "You know who you want to run."

He set his beer bottle down on the desk and got up to go grab another from the fridge.

"He won't do it."

"You haven't asked him yet."

"C.J., he doesn't even want to run for re-election to Congress! Besides, I'll be back working for an underdog… what are the odds of getting him elected to the Presidency with no money and basically no public awareness?"

She looked at him with confidence and said quietly, "It's how we got to be right here, Joshua. An unknown Governor from New Hampshire who had no money and no national recognition. The President didn't want to run when Leo approached him… remember?"

Josh looked conflicted and C.J. knew that whatever argument he was having in his head, it could only be won and fought within himself. No matter what she said to try and convince him that Leo and the President had known exactly what they were doing in asking him to find the future of their party, he would have to find his own answers.

C.J. stood up and cocked her head listening to the music for a moment and then let her eyes wander around the room. Glancing at the photograph of Josh and Donna from the Inaugural, she said, "She's upstairs, you know. The First Lady invited her."

"I know," he responded, looking at the beer in his hands.

"If you get Santos to run…" C.J. started, letting the rest of the thought drift away.

"I know," Josh responded, "She works for Russell. Just when I thought things were going to change…"

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, "Whoever signed me up for a trip on the ship of irony booked me one hell of a passage, didn't they?"

"Yeah," C.J. said quietly. "When are you going to tell her?"

Josh thought for a moment, "When I know my answer. I just hope she'll forgive me."

They both stood for a moment, listening to the cello music wrap itself softly around them like a soothing fog.

"Josh, we were never all going to stay together."

He looked up at her quickly, the pain in his eyes evident as he acknowledged what he had never had the courage to say out loud.

"You know that, right," C.J. said, looking down at him with sympathy, knowing how desperately Josh Lyman hated to lose the people around him, "We were never all going to stay together, no matter what happened."

He looked down at his hands and mumbled, "Yeah."

Stopping herself from reaching over and touching him, C.J. took a step toward the door and said, "Come on upstairs. They're asking for you."

"In a minute," he replied, turning his chair so he could look out the window.

After a moment, he heard the door close behind him and he closed his eyes, remembering the _Ave Maria_ and the ones who had already left him behind.

(To be continued.)


	12. Photographs 12

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just a reminder that these stories contain some spoilers. The rest is my imagination. So, I won't tell you which is which and let John Wells surprise you when you watch on Wednesday nights.

This chapter is for Suze, who is a CJ freak, and Birdie, who is a light and encouragement.

PHOTOGRAPHS (12)

C.J. tried to concentrate on the briefing in her hand, but her mind kept wandering. She had yet to adjust fully to her 'new' office and the events of the last several days had her pondering things other than the stack of binders Margaret had left in front of her. Looking over at the fishbowl on her desk, she thought even Gail looked slightly disturbed this evening.

Taking off her glasses and rubbing her eyes, she chuckled hollowly.

"Whatcha reading?" Toby asked from the doorway where he had taken up his normal stance of holding up the doorjamb.

C.J. looked up, "A briefing on the pending labor strike of Los Angeles public transportation workers."

"And you find that funny? You have a decidedly sick sense of humor."

"Anything that would inconvenience any of my former clients amuses me, Tobus," she replied, putting the briefing down and laying her glasses on the desk, "But I wasn't really laughing about that."

"Oh, really?" he slowly walked across to the visitors chair and sat down across from her.

"Yeah, really. Anyway, what brings you up here?"

Toby looked around the office, noting that C.J. had stubbornly kept everything the same way it had been during Leo's tenure as Chief of Staff, right down to the sailing pictures on the walls and the heavy, masculine décor.

"I came to talk. We don't… talk much anymore."

Looking at him, C.J. slowly replied, "Well, you know, I kinda have this thing now…"

"Really? I hadn't noticed," came the sarcastic reply.

"Sorry," she knew that he was having a hard time settling for the fact that his former colleague and friend was now his boss, "You're right. We haven't talked recently. I'm sorry. How are Huck and Molly?"

"Good. Big."

"You should have Andi bring them by one afternoon. It would be nice to see them."

"Yeah."

They studied one another in silence for a few moments before Toby cleared his throat.

"C.J. What's going on that I don't know about?"

C.J. looked down at her desk and pondered how she was going to handle this. Did she avoid him and take the easy (at least in the immediate sense) way out or did she tell the most volatile man on her staff that the President of the United States wanted to buck tradition, rip the rug out from under the Vice President, and pick a dark horse candidate to take his place? Knowing Toby as long and as well as she did, she figured honestly would probably be the best policy.

"C.J.?"

She sighed, rubbed her eyes one more time and looked him in the eye, "Toby, what I tell you, you can't tell anyone else. Not Andi, not Charlie, no one."

Toby's eyes got wide and C.J. instantly knew that her approach had been wrong, "No! It's nothing to do with the President. At least not in the way you think, so you can take the panicked look off your face."

She could see him relax slightly, but he was still anticipating a hit… she could tell.

"The President and Leo have asked Josh to find a candidate." _There, she said it_.

Toby, for all of his political acumen looked slightly confused, "A candidate? For what?"

"Oh for Christ's sake, Toby, I don't know… homecoming queen?" Exasperated she looked at him as if he had grown a second nose that was now sprouting out of his forehead.

The two sat intently staring at one another until C.J. could see the realization of what she meant slowly creep across Toby's face.

"He's not backing Russell?" he said softly.

"He's not backing anyone at the moment," she replied, dropping her eyes.

"The Vice President, who, I might add, has a huge war chest and is the presumptive nominee is not going to receive the President's endorsement???? Jesus Christ, C.J.! Don't we have enough problems with the party as it is??" He was out of his chair now and gesticulating wildly. C.J. heard 'that tone' seeping into Toby's voice and she knew she had to get control of him before he made a spectacle of himself.

"Toby, listen… Bob Russell isn't the right guy to be sitting in that office," she pointed to the door that connected her office with the Oval Office. "The person taking that office will be taking over our legacy. Can you see him in there?"

He looked at her for a moment and then dropped his eyes, acknowledging the truth in what she had said,

"No," he huffed, "Russell is a stuffed shirt. And an uneducated one at that. He can barely use the English language without eighth graders laughing at the effort."

"Exactly."

"So who is he going to run?"

"What?"

"Who is Josh going to run?"

C.J. sighed, "He doesn't know if he's going to do it yet."

Toby smirked, "He'll do it. It's a fight. An uphill fight, I might add. When have you ever known Josh Lyman to back down from a fight?"

C.J. laughed. It was true. Josh was known around Capitol Hill as "Barlet's Pit Bull" – a name he had certainly earned in two terms of twisting arms and bulldozing through offices.

"So who is he going to run?" Toby was rubbing his head now and pacing back and forth. C.J. couldn't tell if he was talking to her, or talking to himself.

Suddenly he turned and looked at her, thinking for a moment, he quietly said, "Santos."

She smiled, "It would be good, wouldn't it? Almost like the old days."

"A catholic, Hispanic Congressman from Texas? It's almost impossible." He was truly anxious now, fingering his beard and rubbing his head in those totally quirky ways that C.J. found so endearing.

"And just the fight Josh Lyman could win," she noted, leaning back in the big executive chair and smiling like a Cheshire cat.

He sat down in the chair and crossed his legs. C.J. could see the wheels spinning in his brain as Toby contemplated the possibility. As she watched him, she thought back to that day by the pool, when she had asked him about the unknown Governor from New Hampshire he wanted her to come see.

_Is Jed Bartlet a good man?_

_Yeah._

_Toby?_

_Yeah. He's a good man._

"Toby… Santos is a good man," she said in a soft voice, "Josh says he's the real thing."

Toby gazed at her, remembering the first campaign when they all fought because of the ideals and not because that was what they were paid to do. When the dream of doing good hadn't been ruined by the necessity of just staying alive.

As he looked at her, he noticed a picture on the windowsill behind her. It was one of the few personal belongings that she had brought into this office. In the silver frame was a photograph taken during a campaign stop from the first _Bartlet for America_ tour. They were all in the picture – Sam, Josh, Donna, Toby, C.J. and Mandy – their arms around each other, laughing, beers raised in triumph.

C.J. followed Toby's gaze to the photograph.

"Josh said something interesting the other day," she mused, studying the faces in the photograph. "He said that he had never contemplated the fact that we wouldn't all always be together. He said he never thought that far ahead."

She looked back at Toby, "Have you ever thought about it?"

He chewed on his lower lip, "Yeah."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he said wearily, shaking his head slightly as if to clear some fog, "I think about it every day. In every fight. I think about what it would be like if we weren't all here. If we all didn't fight to get here. If it was Russell, or Hoynes, or Lillienfeld, or Carrick in that office over there. And that's why I come in every morning. Because if we're here, it means they aren't. But, yeah, I think about it."

She looked at him, pondering the depths of devotion and idealism that kept him coming back day after day. He was the last one of the group who had kept the faith in what they were doing. He was the one who used his voice continuously to remind them that their work wasn't over yet.

"Yeah."

Toby stood and started for the door, "So when is Josh supposed to give an answer?"

"He asked for a couple of days. There's a lot that is going on with him right now…"

Toby stopped and studied a spot on the carpet, "He can't tell her."

"He knows," C.J. sighed, "he won't."

"You know…"

"Don't, Toby. I feel bad simply contemplating what they have asked him to do. After seven years… and now…"

Toby looked up and caught C.J.'s eyes, "Do you think that will keep him from…"

She shook her head, "No. He fights for the good guys. Just like you."

"Yeah. We've just asked him to sacrifice so much." C.J. saw the memory of the night Toby found Josh shot outside the Newseum reflected in his eyes. She knew he would carry that night with him forever, as would she.

"Toby, we've all sacrificed for this. Josh knows what it means."

"Yeah," he said sadly, staring again at the floor, thinking of all of the sacrifices that had been made in the past seven years by _all_ of them.

"Anyway, I have to meet with the President," she said, standing up from the massive desk and straightening her skirt.

"Yeah. Well… thanks."

C.J. moved toward the heavy door, opposite the one in which Toby was standing. She stopped, turned around and smiled, "We need to talk more often."

Toby smiled and watched her open the door to the Oval Office. As it closed behind her, he heard her say, "Mr. President. Are you ready to kick my ass in chess yet again?"

Smiling, he walked out into the hallway.

(To be continued.)


	13. Photographs 13

AUTHOR'S NOTE: These chapters will be coming a little slower right now as I am working on some original fiction. However, I won't forget about them. I'm keeping an eye on what Mr. Wells is doing so I don't stray too far from what is going on in the show.

Anybody find the recurring theme yet????

PHOTOGRAPHS (13)

"You brought me coffee?"

"Yes."

"You brought me coffee."

"Yes."

"You brought me coffee!"

"Josh, we have established that fact. Now, if you don't want me to dump it out on the sidewalk on general principle, you'll take the damned coffee."

Josh reached up and took the cup of Starbucks from Donna and inhaled the strong fragrance as if it were perfume. It was far better that the swill served in the White House mess.

"You've only ever brought me coffee twice, maybe three times, in our entire relationship. And those times were because you thought Leo was going to fire me. What gives?"

Donna smiled, smoothed out her coat and took a seat on the steps next to him, "Well, you said you wanted to meet for coffee. Being the incredibly intelligent politico that you are, I was pretty sure you wouldn't actually _bring_ coffee to a coffee meeting, so I made sure to pick some up."

She took a sip of her coffee and looked out over the tourists who were making the climb up the stairs around them. Even in the brisk December air, there were quite a few sightseers here at the Lincoln Memorial. She never failed to marvel at the monument, even after all of these years of living in Washington. It had become one of her favorite places in the city and she often came here to think and be alone.

"Ok, smartass. What if I had brought the coffee with me?"

"Then I would have had one for now and one to take back to the office," she smiled at him, noting how attractive and alive he seemed when he smiled. He looked just a little bit older, a tad bit calmer, and a little more worn than that day all those years ago when she walked into his life. But the hair was still a rat's nest, his tie was still crooked, and he couldn't keep his clothes pressed for anything. _Things never change_, she thought to herself.

Josh smiled and sipped at his coffee while his gaze drifted out over the reflecting pool and the numerous people strolling in the winter sunshine. He had missed the banter since Donna had left for her new position with Russell's campaign. Ginger tried, but she just didn't have the same spark that Donna had and was far too afraid of making him angry to really challenge him.

"So," she said, drawing the word out in her inimical way, "Do you miss me?"

"Of course," he grinned.

"When do you miss me the most?"

"The nights, definitely."

It was their little inside joke that seemed to take on a slightly different meaning now that their relationship no longer revolved around work. They had used it a few times in the weeks since Josh had come to her during her breakdown after the recent Gaza explosions, and their answers were less humorous and tinged more with some kind of "other" that neither ever mentioned. They had been trying to pick up on their old friendship in the past few weeks, meeting for lunch or an occasional dinner, and their old dance had resumed to a slightly different tune that made them both uneasy and thrilled at the same time.

"Too bad. My nights are currently busy. I may have some time, say, in 2006," she joked, turning her head to him and smiling.

Josh looked away so she wouldn't see the discomfort her comment brought up in him. He had been struggling with the request made to him by the President and Leo earlier in the week. The guilt over not telling Donna what was foremost on his mind and the knowledge that if he did what his heart told him to do, he would put a wedge in between them greater than anything they had ever faced, caused him several sleepless nights.

Sighing, he turned toward her with relatively solemn look on his face, "Donna, can I ask you something?"

"Oh my God!" she gasped. "The Fulbright scholar wants to ask the University of Wisconsin drop out a question? There is something that the great Josh Lyman, Congressman Slayer Extraordinaire doesn't know? Stop the presses!"

Her voice carried out over the steps and several people stopped to look over at the attractive couple.

"Jesus, remind me again why I'm upset you left me?" he hung his head, surreptitiously looking around to see who heard her outburst and then looking away when he caught an older couple nearby smiling at them.

"You were upset, Joshua? That's so sweet," she said, getting a great deal of amusement out of embarrassing him. It was something that had not gone away after all of these years.

"Seriously, I want to ask you something," he said looking out again at the reflecting pool, his tone getting quieter and more somber. Donna looked over at him questioningly.

"Ok."

"Is Bob Russell a good man?"

Her cup stopped in mid-air as she caught his eye. She turned away and continued with the sip she was taking of the coffee and thought for a moment.

"I think so."

"You _think_ so?"

"Yeah, I think he's a good guy. I mean, I know he's not as smart as President Bartlet and, yes, he screws up upon occasion, but he's not a _bad_ guy," she said, avoiding meeting his gaze, "He isn't a killer or a serial rapist or anything."

"Do you believe in him?"

"Yes. Of course I do. What is this, Josh? Are you trying to get me to come back to work for you by talking me out of my current job?" The anger seeping into her voice was unmistakable and she felt like she was suddenly being questioned for her judgment. She had thought they had moved past this point.

"No. I would never do that. I'm very proud of where you are," Josh said taking a hold of her hand, 'I wouldn't do that to you. I just… I just wanted to know."

Donna looked at him searchingly and tried to guess what he was hiding, "Josh, what's going on?"

He stood up and laughed, "Nothing. Let's walk for a little bit. Those steps are cold."

Reaching down for her, he helped her stand and they started to stroll around the reflecting pool, walking by families taking pictures and office workers out for a breath of fresh air.

"Do you remember what you told me when we met the first time?" he asked, the two still holding hands as they walked.

"That I would be valuable?" she offered, grinning.

"Well, you did say that. No… I was thinking about when you told me that you saw Jed Bartlet on the television and decided to drive all the way out to come work for him."

"Yeah, I remember. There was something in him that made me feel like I wanted to be a part of what he was doing," she said softly, thinking back to the cross country drive and her absolute terror and excitement over what the future would bring.

Josh nodded, "We did it, didn't we? We were a part of it."

"Yeah, we did."

The two walked in silence for a few moments, their steps falling in sync and their hands, still clasped between them, swinging with their movement.

"Would you leave everything to go work for Russell like you did Bartlet?" he asked, stopping and turning toward her so that the two faced one another.

She studied him for a moment and sighed. "I'm different now, Josh. I'm older, I've been in Washington and I know the way it works. I'm not a naïve college girl who lives on ideals and grand dreams anymore."

Pulling her hand, he replied, "You didn't answer the question."

"I don't know, Josh, okay?" her tone was now exasperated, "No. Probably not. Bob Russel isn't Jed Bartlet. No one out there is another Jed Bartlet. Why the twenty questions?"

He looked away and took a deep breath, "I just wanted to know what you thought of him. How you felt about him."

"Josh, what's really going on? This isn't about me leaving you for the job with Russell or what kind of man I think Bob Russell is. This is something else, isn't it?" She had dropped his hands and turned to look at him.

His laugh was forced and he tried to look nonchalant as he answered her, "Why would you say that?"

"Because you're lying."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes you are, Josh. I didn't work with you sixteen hours a day, every day for the last seven years without knowing when you were lying!" she said, the tone of her voice indicating that she was starting to lose patience with him. It was a tone Josh had become quite accustomed to over the years.

Josh sighed, took her hand and started walking again. He looked away, wanting to talk to her and tell her everything and knowing he couldn't do it. To assuage his guilt, he hedged around the truth slightly, "I'm just thinking about the future. I mean, my job is almost obsolete now and the campaigns are gearing up…"

"Yeah, Baker and the others are starting to make noise. They were commenting on Hoynes the other night after he made that appearance on…."

Josh looked away from her and dropped her hand. He thought back to his meeting with John Hoynes just ten days ago, when everything in his life had gotten much more complicated… as if that was even possible.

_You'll never be Leo McGarry to Jed Bartlet, Josh. But you can be Leo to me._

Donna stopped and took a step away, a look of shock in her eyes, "This isn't about me and Russell. It's about you and Hoynes. Hoynes is going to run, isn't he? He's talked to you hasn't he?"

Josh looked up at her suddenly and took a sharp breath. _Oh God. How does she know I talked with him? _

"Isn't he, Josh?" she said again, her tone a little more insistent, her forehead wrinkled in worry.

"I think so," he said quietly, looking at the ground in front of him.

"Are you going to work for him?" She was staring at him intently now, willing him to look up and meet her eyes.

After a few beats, Josh looked up at her and whispered, "No."

A smile moved across Donna's face.

"Good. Oh, that's good, Josh," the relief in her voice was obvious, "I would hate to think what would happen if we worked for two different candidates. It would be awful. I wouldn't want to campaign against you, Joshua."

He looked away, forced a smile and took her hand again, "Why because you know I would kick your ass and you'd have to come back to me for a job?"

"As if," she laughed, matching her step with his. "No. I predict that in the future, you will be coming to me for a job."

"What? Like applying to be your assistant?" he kidded, willing the feeling of despair to the back of his mind. In his conversation with her, he had made a decision that would ultimately change the face of their friendship and he knew this would be one of the last times the banter would flow between them. He knew he could never back Russell. He couldn't go back to Hoynes, either. He could never work for a man that didn't inspire and enthuse the nation the way Jed Bartlet had all those years ago. His questions to Donna were just a way to confirm what he already felt in his heart and knew in his conscience.

"That might not be a bad idea. Do you own a catholic school uniform?" she asked evilly, cocking one eyebrow and leering.

As the two joked and continued their stroll, the tourists around them took their photographs of the cold, bright December day, not knowing that the decision made in their midst that afternoon would influence the future of the American presidency.

(To be continued.)


	14. Photographs 14

AUTHOR'S NOTES: HA! _Hartsfield's Landing_ – "Politics in New Hampshire is…?" "Retail." Ok, had to do that 'cause I'm watching that episode right now and I thought it was an incredibly funny line. And makes me want to learn how to play chess.

Plus – Ed and Larry!!!!! Woot!

After a short break for some angst (_see_ "Angels and Ministers of Grace") and some original fiction, it's back!

So, Susie and Birdie get mad props for helping me with this chapter and helping to come up with the premise.

PHOTOGRAPHS (14)

Donna rolled over and slammed her palm down on the top of the clock, abruptly stopping the buzz of the alarm and, at the same time, the warm feeling she had from her recent dream. Rolling over on her back and putting her hands behind her head, she sighed deeply, smiled, and thought back over the dream.

She and Josh had been dancing in the White House, as they had a hundred times before, except this time they were all alone under the chandeliers of the grand ballroom. They were dancing to Strauss, some kind of waltz for which she didn't know the name, and laughing. Josh was in white tie and tails and she was in that blue dress from the Second Inaugural. Spinning and laughing, they circled the dance floor…

Then the alarm went off.

_Damn. _

Stretching, she got out of bed and padded to the bathroom, noting with pleasure that she no longer had to wade her way through her roommate's plethora of hair care and grooming products. Within days of receiving her first paycheck in the private sector, she had found a better apartment in a safer neighborhood - minus roommate and cats. One of the nights that Josh had come over, he had helped hang some pictures on the wall, put up the new curtains and arrange the furniture.

Looking around, Donna smiled at the memory of Josh, with hammer and nails in hand, attempting to be "manly."

"_Josh, it's crooked."_

"_No, it's not."_

"_Yes, it is."_

"_No, it's not."_

"_Josh, I'm not going to walk into this room every morning and look at a crooked picture."_

"_Donna, I am a very powerful man. I am a Fulbright scholar. I scored 760 on the verbal portion of the SATs. I have made Senators cower and women tremble. I can hang a damned picture."_

"_It's crooked."_

"_Donnnnnaaaa…"_

"_Josh, I have known you for over seven years. I know your qualifications. And while you may be one of the most powerful men in the country, I am here to tell you **that** picture is crooked. Now straighten it up."_

"_Why do I let you treat me this way?"_

"_Because you're Josh and I'm Donna and that's what we do…"_

Donna smiled, switched on the coffee-maker and got ready for her day.

**xxx**

Ginger hadn't been able to leave the White House for their lunch date. Josh had her on a short tether because of a bill up for vote on the Hill, so the two of them had lunch in the White House mess. It had been a while since Donna had partaken of the bad coffee and excellent chocolate cake and she felt a little out-of-place among the movers and shakers at the collected tables.

"I had forgotten what it was like to eat in here," Donna whispered conspiratorially. "It's like being part of the cool crowd in high school."

Ginger giggled, "I am still in awe of this place. And I've been eating here at least once a day for the last 900 years!"

The two women laughed and settled into their old routine, catching up on gossip and the news of the upcoming campaigns.

"So, who do you think I should go to work for? I mean, I could go back to Toby, or over to Annabeth, I guess…"

Donna looked up sharply from her salad, "What?"

"I asked you who you thought I should try and go work for, when Josh leaves. Annabeth needs someone…"

"When Josh leaves? What do you mean?"

Ginger stopped, covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head. "I'm sorry. Oh, God, I'm sorry, Donna. He didn't tell you. I thought he had told you …"

Putting her fork down, Donna breathed deeply, trying to stop her racing heart, "Told me what?"

"The press release is going out tomorrow, Donna. He resigned."

_He resigned. Why didn't he tell me?_

"When?"

"He gave the letter to C.J. yesterday. They were waiting until tomorrow to release the news so they could work on the short list."

Ginger looked at Donna and realized that the blonde woman across from her truly had no idea what her former boss and best friend was planning. Casting her better judgment aside, she continued, "Donna, he's going to work for Matt Santos."

Donna looked questioningly at her lunch companion, "Matt Santos? The Congressman? I don't understand… why would Josh leave the White House to run a Congressional campaign?"

"Santos isn't running for Congress, Donna."

The blonde shook her head again, "I don't…I don't understand."

"Donna," Ginger said, wishing that the entire day could start over again, "Santos is running for President. Josh is going to manage the campaign."

**xxx**

"You are such an _asshole_!"

Josh stared down at the papers on his desk, forcing himself to count to ten rather than look up at the raging woman in his doorway.

"Why don't you come in?"

"Fuck you, Josh. Why don't you go to hell?" Donna shouted, barely able to restrain herself from walking over to him and slapping him across the face.

Standing up from behind his desk, Josh quietly said, "Come in and shut the door."

"When were you going to tell me, Josh? When were you going to be honest with me?" Donna's voice was rising and he could see people in the bullpen turning to look at the two of them.

"Either get in here and shut the door or leave, Donna." The tone of his voice was one she had heard only a few times in the past. Knowing he was on the edge and there was the potential for a full blown, window-shattering rage, she stepped inside the office and shut the door.

Sighing heavily, Josh sat back down behind the desk and looked at her, noting that work in the private sector had given her a new air of independence and authority. He hadn't noticed it before, concentrating on simply spending time with her and, characteristically, not observing how much she had grown.

_She's becoming a totally different woman_, he thought.

"Now, would you like to tell me, in a calm manner, why you're so pissed?"

"You resigned."

_Shit_. This was the conversation he had been dreading.

"Yes."

"When were you going to tell me?"

"I gave C.J. the letter yesterday. It's only been a day."

Donna came and sat down in the visitor's chair, the strength seeming to drain out of her legs. She couldn't believe she was having this conversation with him.

"Josh. Why didn't you tell me you were thinking about this? I mean, I had no idea. Why couldn't you tell me?"

He couldn't look up to face the blue eyes he knew were trained on him. He knew the look too well and knew that he wouldn't be able to do what he had to do if he let that look get to him.

_Do it now, Lyman. If you do it now, it may not hurt her so much later._

"I'm not sure I owe you an explanation. I resigned my job. You don't work here anymore, Donna, and I certainly don't answer to you."

He heard the sharp intake of her breath and felt his heart break at the same time. In the nights since he had made his decision, he had gone over everything in his mind, trying to find a way for things to work between them. But there was no way. Operatives in two different campaigns could not have a personal relationship any more than the Deputy Chief of Staff of the White House could be involved with his assistant.

It couldn't happen.

"You told me that you…that day by the Lincoln Memorial… you told me…" she started, wanting him to explain away all the questions she had in her mind. She thought back over her own words that day and wanted to weep.

"_I would hate to think what would happen if we worked for two different candidates. It would be awful. I wouldn't want to campaign against you, Joshua."_

"I didn't tell you anything! You asked me if I was going to work for Hoynes and I told you no. I didn't lie, I didn't mislead, I didn't do anything that I need to justify. Not to you." Josh was forcing himself to be mean, forcing himself to push her away.

Continuing, he stood up and looked out the window, "Did you think I would sit here in the White House doing nothing while Bingo Bob Russell got elected? A man who makes Dan Quayle look like a Rhodes scholar? A man who gets his news from _People _magazine and the occasional blurb on SportsCenter? He's an idiot and has no concept of loyalty. There is no way that I will let that man become President, Donna!"

He turned to look at her and saw the expression change on her face. It was a look he remembered from times when he had hurt her in the past. The times when he had struck her and struck her hard.

_Oh, God, please forgive me for this._

"You felt this way all this time?" she said quietly.

"C'mon, Donna. What did you think I was going to do? Sit back for the next few months and watch everything we worked for get ruined by Bingo Bob and his band of merry men? And then walk away from the White House and go do what? Work for some consulting firm while our legacy and all our good work just disappeared? Get this straight. It is my goal to make sure we put the real thing back in the White House. _And it's not your guy_."

By the time he was finished, he was leaning over his desk, both hands spread on the table top in front of him, looking her directly in the eye, "Yes. I felt this way the whole time."

Donna stood and picked up a coffee mug from the edge of the desk. Studying it, she realized that she had no idea why it was in her hands; she had simply reached out to hold onto something. If she held onto something tangible, maybe she could pull herself out of what had to be an awful dream. The mug was one she had gotten Josh one year for Boss' Day – she had joked that she wouldn't bring him coffee, but she'd make it easier for him to get his own.

"So, it's Santos?" The words were almost a whisper and Josh had to strain to hear them.

"Yeah," he said softly, "It's Santos."

Donna looked up at him, studying his face for what seemed to be a lifetime. Shifting her gaze, she turned to the photograph of the two of them hanging on his wall.

_Who are those people?_ she thought. _What happened to them? I don't know them anymore._

With one fluid motion, she flung the coffee mug at the picture. It was a dead on hit and the sound of shattering ceramics and glass was deafening. Walking to the office door, she threw it open and stalked down the hallway.

In the bullpen, the staff was motionless, the sound of the shouting and breaking glass completely audible through the closed office door. They could see Josh standing, immobile, in his office, staring down at the top of his desk.

There was coffee streaming down the wall behind him.

(To be continued.)


	15. Photographs 15

AUTHOR'S NOTES: So, by now, you've probably noticed that my world is a little different than John Well's world. This chapter can probably be read (if you disregard a little bit of finesse with the timeline) in terms of both worlds.

I think we were cheated out of seeing this and there have been some really good fanfic stories about Josh's departure. Here is my take. We'll go into the campaign in a little while (when I feel better and get some more inspiration).

Let me know what you think.

P.S. – A big thank you to Kursk for giving me the secretary's name in the Oval!

PHOTOGRAPHS (15)

The office looked desolate and empty, much like it appeared the day he walked into the West Wing to take over in the bullpen. The walls were stripped and bare. The desk was completely clean. The files that had covered every spare inch of flat space for the last seven years had been distributed to the various "wonks" and the cleaning staff had even been able to vacuum the floor – the first time since he had returned from the shooting and destroyed Donna's organization. He had decided to leave the Senate "crib notes" on the chalkboard - whoever took over for him might find it useful. It was, in his opinion, incredibly surreal.

"Have you gone up to see him yet?" C.J. asked him from the doorway, sneaking into his reverie as only she could do.

Josh shook his head without looking up, "No. Not yet."

"You're going to have to go talk to him. You can't avoid him any more."

"Yeah."

"Josh, you've managed to keep out of the Oval for the last twelve days. You have to go talk to him – you owe him that much," C.J.'s tone was similar to that of a mother reminding her son to write his thank you notes after receiving presents.

"I know, I know!" he looked up at her, sighing heavily, "But there are a few other people I have to see first….Charlie… Leo… Toby."

"Don't worry about Toby. He and I are taking you to the Hawk and Dove tonight. Did you really think we'd do the big 'Goodbye' in the middle of the bullpen? You couldn't leave without the requisite two beers."

Josh raised his eyebrow, "Uh, C.J. If you haven't noticed, you're the Chief of Staff for the President of the United States. You can't just waltz off to a local politico-bar and drink beers. It's not like the old days."

"Oh, mi amour, you don't get it," she said shaking her head slowly with a sly smile on her face, "I'm the Chief of Staff for the President of the United States and, therefore, I can do whatever I want."

As she turned to walk down the hallway, she threw the words back over her shoulder, "Now, go talk to him. Toby and I will get you later."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Charlie?" Josh poked his head into the office reserved for the Senior Assistants to the Chief of Staff and found Charlie with his head buried in a report.

"Oh, hey," Charlie replied, looking up from his desk, "I'm sorry I didn't getover to see youearlier. C.J. has me reviewing the most recent report from Treasury on the productivity of non-incorporated areas of the Appalachian Range and something about something else."

Josh chuckled and leaned against the doorjamb, "That's ok. Today has been a little busy, anyway."

The two men studied one another silently, knowing that neither wanted to say what had to be said.

"Josh…"

"Charlie…"

"Sorry, you first…"

"Damn. I'm sorry…"

The two started to laugh and the tension disappeared immediately. Josh shoved his hands in his pockets and gestured at Charlie with his elbow, "You go."

Charlie looked down at the top of his desk and thought for a moment, searching for a way to put his feelings into words. He hated goodbyes and had avoided this one for as long as possible.

"Josh," he started slowly, "I want you to know… meeting you that day, the day I came to interview for the messenger job, was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Charlie…" Josh interrupted.

"No, wait, let me finish," Charlie responded firmly, knowing he needed to finish the words that had been rolling around his head all day and preventing him from seeing anything on the page in front of him, "If you hadn't believed in me that day, if you hadn't made me believe in myself, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have met the President, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to go to Georgetown, I wouldn't have been able to do any of what I have done. I owe you everything for the choice you made that day."

Taken aback, Josh stood open mouthed in the doorway. The younger man stared down at the top of his desk and continued.

"And there was the night in the Arboretum and when Zoe was kidnapped…"

The older man held up his hand and started to chuckle. "Charlie, you don't owe me for any of that! C'mon…"

Charlie jumped up from behind his desk and looked Josh directly in the eye, "You don't get it, man! _You don't get it_!" Pointing his index finger vehemently at Josh's chest, the words exploded out of him, "You did all of that. You did all of that _and_ you took a bullet because of me! You nearly died because of _me_! Man, don't you see? You did all of this for me and I owe you everything."

The room was deathly silent as the two men stood, wide-eyed, across from one another. The subject that had never been discussed between them now stood out in the open and it had drawn the air out of the room.

"I owe you everything," Charlie stated softly. "I owe you everything. And if you ever need me, you call me. You just ask." He then sat back down behind his desk, picked up the report that had been earlier tossed aside and began reading.

Josh stood, overwhelmed, in the doorway - unable to move forward, to take the young man in his arms in a hug he so desperately wanted to give and unwilling to step back and move out into the hallway and away from everything this day had entailed. After a minute passed, he slowly turned and walked down the hallway to the office Leo had taken over a few weeks before.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Leo had settled into C.J.'s old office with relative ease. Margaret had hovered over him like a mother-hen for the first week until Leo laid down the law that she was only able to call him or come to his office to check up on him once every two hours. He had to constantly remind her that he was certain C.J. needed Margaret's services much more than he did and that he would remember to take his medicine, grab a nap, or go home on time (the answer depended upon the day's lecture) before he sent her back to her desk.

He looked up from the papers on his desk to see Josh standing in his doorway.

_Shit. He's leaving. It's time. _

Leo forced himself to remember that it was his idea, initially, to set Josh on the path he had chosen. The President had immediately agreed and the two had tag-teamed the younger man one night, knowing, as older, wiser men do, that he would rise to the challenge.

"Have you been to see him yet?" Leo asked, looking over the top of his glasses.

"What?"

"Have you been to seem him yet?" Leo asked again, realizing that Josh Lyman, the man who felt the need to save everyone around him, the man who hated to be left behind, was leaving everyone and everything he loved.

_This is killing him._

"Ummmm, no. Not yet. I'm making my way up there," Josh replied, walking into the office and sitting down across the desk in one of the visitor's chairs.

"How you doing?" The older man saw the emotion just below the surface and was amazed at the restraint Josh was showing.

"I'm ok."

"Really? 'Cause you look like hell."

Josh looked up at Leo, his expression dazed and overwhelmed. And then he started to laugh. The laughter welled up inside of him and he laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks. After a few moments, he composed himself, wiped his eyes and sat smiling in the chair, looking as if he had just won the lottery.

"Feel better?" Leo asked, knowing Josh well enough not to be at all surprised by the outburst.

"Yeah. I was sitting here thinking of how tough today has been and then I remembered the time we put the turkeys in here. For C.J. The Thanksgiving turkeys," Josh laughed, looking around the office and remembering times that had been glory years.

Leo chuckled, "Oh, yes. The turkeys. Believe it or not, I had forgotten about them."

The two men sat for a moment, each in their own world of past memories.

"When do you head for New Hampshire?" the older man asked, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

"Matt is going to declare tomorrow. We have a couple of days to get our act together and then we're going up early next week." Josh fiddled with the end of his tie, nervously rolling it between the fingers of his right hand.

"Josh…"

"Leo, I wanted to thank you." The words were rushed, as if he had to push them out. "I want to thank you for coming to me that day, in Hoynes' office. And for convincing me to go to New Hampshire. For keeping me here even when I fucked up in the extreme. I want to thank you for believing in me all these years. I gave you so many opportunities not to, and you still did. I know why you told the President to give C.J. the CoS spot. You were right when you did it. And I just wanted to let you know that I really appreciate what you have done for me. I really tried to make you proud. I hope you believe that."

Leo studied the younger man in front of him and felt the weight of his years settle in upon his shoulders. He thought of Noah Lyman and the first time they met all those years ago. He remembered the times Noah had spoken of his son, the day they lost Joanie, the years it took the family to rebuild itself. He saw, in his mind, the day Josh lay in the hospital with his chest open and the surgeons working to save his life. He remembered the day he promised Noah Lyman that he wouldn't let anything else happen to his son.

"You know how I met your father, right?" Leo asked Josh, standing up to look out of the tall windows next to his desk.

"Yeah, you two were in college together. Dad used to tell great stories about your frat days," Josh chuckled.

Leo snorted, "Well, whatever he told you about me paled in comparison to the things he pulled off." He paused for a moment and put his hands into his pockets.

"The day you were born, Josh, your father called me and said, 'I have a son, Leo! A son!' He was so excited. He went on about all the things he wanted for you, what he wanted you to do, the things you would accomplish. But the one thing he wanted more than anything was for you to do something that would matter. To be one of 'the good guys'."

The older man turned from the window and looked down at the man in the chair, "You did that once, Josh, when you got Jed Bartlet elected. And you did it, again, when you got him elected to a second term. The things we have done in the last seven years have made the lives of millions of people better. I think your father would have been very proud of you for that. But what you are doing now? I think this would make him the most proud."

The older man cleared his throat, "I don't have a son, Josh. I have always thought of you as part of my family. I've always thought I could talk to you like you were my son. I just want you to know that I think Noah is exceptionally proud of you. And I am exceptionally proud of you."

Josh stood, the tears showing in his eyes, and walked until he was face to face with his father's oldest friend, "Leo…"

Leo took the younger man in his arms and hugged him, the thin line holding his restraint in place was tight to the point of breaking.

The older man stepped away, wiping his eyes, and said, "You have to go see him now."

Josh shook his head, wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand and turned to leave.

"Leo…"

"You've got to go in there, Josh. You've avoided him for as long as you can. It's time."

"Yeah." Josh took two steps, stopped and turned, "Leo?"

"Yeah?"

"That thing you did for Donna? The interview? When Colin was going to release the photographs? I never did get to thank you."

The old man looked up, his eyes softening, and gestured with his hands, "I didn't do it for her, Josh. I did it for you. Now go talk to the man."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Josh was in the anteroom, off of the Oval Office, wondering how many times he had paced that very same piece of carpet over the years he had worked in the White House. He was certain that in a thousand years, when archaeologists were studying the building, his footprint would be imbedded in the cement under the carpet in this very spot.

"Josh?"Nancy said his name, walking out of the door, "He can see you now."

The steps were painful and slow as he walked into the Oval Office. The man in front of him was physically debilitated, but mentally and spiritually still the giant that Josh had come to respect and love in his years of service.

_What am I doing?_

"Josh?" The voice was soft and sympathetic, as if the man in the chair who had so many worries and so many troubles was concerned only about him.

_Oh, God. I can't do this._

"How are you feeling?" Josh asked, not wanting this to be the moment. Not wanting it to be now.

"Not too bad."

"Sir, I never imagined I would be having this conversation with you. I never thought that I would be saying this to you."

"Josh…"

"Mr. President, it has been an honor and a privilege to work for you. The years I have spent in this building have been the best years of my life." Josh was standing with his head down, his shoulders turned in as if to help him hide from the sheer importance of this moment.

"Oh for God's sake, Josh. This doesn't have to be a Hallmark moment. Sit down."

"Mr. President?"

"Sit down! You're making me feel like I'm channeling my father, sitting here in this chair, so sit down so I can look you in the eye and we can speak like men."

Josh slowly sat on the sofa across from the President and studied his hands. This wasn't how he had wanted it to go – he had wanted to come in, say his piece and leave. Anything more was going to push him past his breaking point and having once lost his mind with the President, he didn't want to repeat such a distinct honor.

"Josh," the President said softly, "I know I may not have been completely fair to you these last few years…"

"Oh, Sir!"

"Are you going to let me do this or are you going to act like Ellie and interrupt me every time I try and have a serious discussion?"

Chagrined, Josh, looked back down at his hands, "I'm sorry, Mr. President."

"As I was saying, I may not have been as fair to you in these last few years as I could have been. I think perhaps I was envious of you. You were able to do and say everything that I wanted to all these years. You were my 'Pit Bull' and in being that, you simply reminded me that I _had_ to have you do for me what I couldn't do for myself. I've had to learn a lot about letting people do things for me, these past years. Hell, these past few weeks have taught me more about letting go and letting others do things for me that I can't do than seven years of sitting in this office."

Josh studied the man in front of him, realizing that this was one of the few personal moments they had shared since that night in the airport when he was preparing to go home to bury his father.

The President removed his glasses and slipped them into his shirt pocket. "Never in all of those years did you not do what was asked of you, Josh. Not once did you not do what needed to be done. Even if I was the world's biggest bastard, you were someone I could count on. If I have never thanked you for that, then I need to do so now."

"Mr. President…" Josh found that the words simply wouldn't come.

"Go over to my desk."

"I'm sorry, Sir?"

"My wife couldn't be here today. She wanted to say goodbye to you herself, but she is giving a speech at a DAR convention somewhere. She put something together for you. Go over to my desk."

Josh stood and walked over to the grand desk a few feet away. On it were two boxes, one large and flat, and one smaller, the size of a small square jewelry box.

"Abby's is the big one," the President chuckled, "Always the overachiever, my wife. Bring them over here."

Josh picked up the two boxes and walked back to the sofa. Settling himself on the sofa with the boxes at his side, he looked quizzically at the President.

"Well, open it!" Jed Bartlet laughed, knowing what was inside and eager to see the younger man's reaction.

Putting aside the smaller box, Josh picked up the larger present and pulled off the paper. Opening the blue box, he gasped and felt the tears rise in his eyes.

"Abby had one made for each of you. Donna and Sam, too, thought she has to ship those out to them. I think she got to contemplating the end of our days here and wanted to do something for each of you. She had her office bring boxes of old pictures up to the Residence and she spent nights going through them until she found the right one."

The President watched as Josh lifted the heavy silver Tiffany frame out of the box and studied the picture. He knew the photograph well, as Abby had one copied and framed and placed in the living room of the Residence. It had been taken at one of the state dinners – they were all standing in profile, lined up in a row – a once in a lifetime shot. The men were in white tie and the women in gowns and they all seemed entranced with something in the distance, out of the frame of the picture. From memory, Jed could name them each as he watched Josh touch each face – Toby, C.J., Sam, Donna and Josh.

"Mr. President," Josh whispered, "I don't… I don't know… what to say."

"Then don't. Let me say a couple of things."

The younger man continued to stare down at the photograph as the older man continued, "Each of you has proven yourself in one way or another. Each of you has sacrificed and given 115 percent of your being to what we have done here. And each of you has done everything that I have ever asked of you. But you are the _one_, Josh. You are the one I have asked to make sure that what we did here wasn't in vain."

Josh's head shot up and he looked Jed Bartlet in the eye.

"You are a fighter, Josh. I've seen you do it here in the White House. I saw you do it in that hospital bed. I know that whatever you need to do to make something happen, you do it. That is why you are the one who will continue what we have done here. You are the one that will preserve our future. Leo and I both recognize that if you hadn't left Hoynes that day to come work for my campaign, I wouldn't be here. That's why we chose you. You aren't leaving us, Josh. You're just taking a few steps ahead to make sure everything is ready for the rest of us when we catch up."

The President continued, feeling the tears begin to fill his own eyes, "Abby and I never had a son, Josh. I love my daughters, don't get me wrong, but I have always wondered what it would have been like to have a son. I will never know what that is like. But I do know enough, though, to tell you that if we had had a son, I would be the world's proudest father if he had turned out to be half the man you are."

"Sir," Josh stood, the tears now freely rolling down his cheeks, "It has been my greatest honor to serve at the pleasure of the President."

Jed looked up at the young man in front of him and said gravely, "It has been an honor to have you here."

The emotion in the room was heavy and heartbreaking. Josh turned to leave, the framed photograph in his hand.

"Josh?"

"Yes, Mr. President?" he said, turning toward the man in the chair.

"Two things. First, there is another gift there for you, the small box. Don't open it now. Wait. You'll know the right time when it comes. Second, the next time you are in Washington, my wife demands your presence in the Residence for dinner." The older man was chuckling, having wiped away his tears when the young man turned to leave.

Josh walked over to the sofa and picked up the smaller box.

"Sir. You can tell the First Lady that it's a date."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Toby, C.J. and Josh sat around a table at the Hawk and Dove, C.J.'s security detail quietly watching the activity around the table from a discreet distance. The three had been there long enough for a few drinks to be consumed and Josh was beginning to feel the effects of the day. He felt numb and tired, emotionally drained and unable to determine exactly how he got there.

Josh looked at the two people with him, the last of the golden group who had entered the doors of the West Wing all those years before. C.J., mature and assured, and Toby, quietly calculating how they could continue down to the wire – he suddenly felt the guilt rise up in him at the thought he was leaving them behind.

"I think I need to get going," he said, looking up at both of them, trying to catch their eyes. "I've had one hell of a day and there's a huge amount of stuff that I have to get together for tomorrow."

"Yeah, and I don't think it's wise that I be seen boozing it up in a bar for the entire night," C.J. sighed, "Despite what I said this morning about being able to do what I want."

"Guys…" Josh started, not knowing how he could put into words the things he wanted to tell both of them.

"Don't," Toby said quietly, focusing on something across the bar.

"Toby?"

"He's right," C.J. said, the tears in her eyes visible even in the dim light of the bar. "Don't say anything. Let's just leave like we would any other night."

Josh looked from one to the other, his composure slipping. As he had with Charlie, he wanted desperately to take each of these two in his arms, to express the depth of his feeling for both of them. And yet, he understood the need to not make this a "thing".

Standing up from his chair, he collected his backpack and slipped on his coat. Toby was still staring at something across the bar, the muscles in his jaw the only sign that he was struggling to control himself. C.J. was staring at her wineglass, the tears streaking down her cheeks and somehow making her look even more elegant.

"I want you two to know," Josh said softly, leaning into the table and inclining his head so he was as close to them as space would allow, "You are my family. You have been my family for the last eight years and you will be my family for the rest of my life. You are family and if there is anything you need…."

The words drifted off into the space between them and then disappeared into the noise of the bar. Josh straightened up, turned around and walked out of the bar without ever looking back.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Walking into his condominium, Josh slammed the front door and then leaned his back up against it wondering if he had the energy or the will to take another step. The realization that he had just given up everything he had, and left everything he knew, to take the wildest political challenge to be proposed in the last 100 years suddenly washing over him.

Sighing heavily, he shuffled into the living room, shrugging off his coat and throwing his backpack on the sofa. He walked into the kitchen and put the small cardboard box in his hands on the counter. After pulling the last beer from the refrigerator, he walked back to the box and pulled out Abby Bartlet's gift. He set the photograph on the counter and studied each of the faces one more time.

_We look so young. Were we ever that young? Did we ever think that would end?_

Shaking off his sorrow, he reached back into the box and pulled out the small box the President had told him to open "later".

"Now's as good a time as any," he said aloud, taking a swig from the beer. Slowly opening the box, he found a black velvet jewelers box and a folded piece of paper. He opened the paper to find the President's distinctive writing.

_Josh -_

_The lessons of the past and the promise of the future are all in the palm of your hand._

_Jed _

Josh smiled, set the letter down and opened the velvet box. Nestled in the velvet was a sterling silver key chain made of a simple round disk. Lifting it out of the box, Josh smiled at the simple elegance of the silver and noticed the initials _JSB_ engraved in script on one side. Thinking there might be something on the other side, he turned it over and broke into a giant grin at the inscription.

Laughing, Josh closed his fingers around the key chain and thought about the day to come. Realizing he had work yet to do to prepare for Matt Santos' declaration of his candidacy for President, Josh laid the keychain down on the counter and went into the living room to make some phone calls.

The keychain on the counter reflected the fluorescent lights of the kitchen and winked its message from Jed Bartlet to the man he hoped would secure the future for his grandchildren. Two simple words that were uttered in the beginning and echoed over the years…

_What's next?_

(To be continued.)


	16. Photographs 16

AUTHOR'S NOTES: And after a long hiatus, I'm back... it's been slow at work and I have been reading up on some amazing post-ep pieces for the last 6 episodes or so. Right now, I want to deal with the whole Toby/Josh fight (working in and referencing things from the campaign trail) and will then take on the following storylines.

As always, my hats off to those who have read and reviewed the previous chapters – your support has been priceless.

PHOTOGRAPHS (16)

Donna Moss stood a few yards away and watched as he sat on the steps and sucked on the first knuckle of his right hand. His head was bowed and in the darkness of the night upon the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, she could see his depression. It was a physical weight he carried in his shoulders – she had seen it before over the years and knew that it would not leave easily. She walked quietly up the steps and sat down a few feet away from him.

"Hey."

Josh looked up and then lowered his head again.

"Hey."

"I ran into Rhonna at the party and she said you left early. It's a little late to be out here, don't you think? You have to be careful or Capitol Security may take you for a homeless guy and run you down to a holding cell for the night."

He just gave a half-hearted smile and went back to sucking on his knuckle. She could tell his hand was swollen and painful in the way he flexed the fingers back and forth.

"You really should get some ice for that," she said, knowing he had probably done nothing about what might become a significant bruise.

"I'm fine."

"Really, Josh, you need to..."

"I'm fine...Donna," he replied, his voice sharp and then calming, as if he was trying to keep control over himself, "Really. I'm fine."

Donna studied him for a moment, noting that the weeks on the campaign trail had hollowed out the circles under his eyes and tightened the lines around his mouth. She had been so busy trying to keep his presence from throwing her off balance each time they met that she hadn't noticed how old he seemed to have gotten.

She looked back out over the reflecting pool, the lights from the Mall and the Monument behind them glinting like earthbound stars on the surface of the water.

"I thought you'd be back on the road by now."

Josh took the hand away from his mouth and flexed his fingers again, "No. The Congressman had a few things he wanted to check into at his office on the Hill. We're in town tonight and then back out early tomorrow afternoon. Why are you here? Bingo Bob having too much fun with the crab puffs and chicken skewers to leave tonight?"

Donna winced at the chicken reference but kept her calm. She was still sensitive about the whole chicken "thing" and could barely even be around it when it was served, let alone have the subject come up in conversation.

"Actually, there were a few things here he needed to handle. I'm happy, though, since this gives me a chance to re-acquaint myself with my own bed for a night."

Nodding, Josh looked back over the pool in front of them, "Yeah. It's been a while."

The two sat silently for a moment. Donna realized that this was the most time the two had spent in each other's company since the day she stormed out of his office, broken glass and broken feelings in her wake.

_At least we can still be civil..._

"Josh, look, I heard about what happened with Toby..."

"Don't."

"Josh, c'mon... you punched him. You and Toby..."

"I said don't, Donna!" Josh jumped up from where he had been sitting and walked few steps down. Turning, he looked back up at her and she was shocked and the pain she saw in his eyes.

"I can't do this right now. I can't sit here and listen to another person tell me how disappointed they are. I got it from C.J. and Leo earlier...I can't do it, Donna. I can't hear it from you, too. Especially not you. Not tonight." He turned his back to her and stood silently.

A few moments passed and Donna said quietly, "I wasn't going to say I was disappointed."

He turned and looked at her, "What?"

"I said, I wasn't going to say I was disappointed in you," she replied, not looking in his direction. "I was going to say that I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" His tone was incredulous. "Sorry for what?"

She met his eyes and took a deep breath, "I was the one who told you about Rafferty. I was the one who pointed out the parallel to President Bartlet's plan. I was the one that wound you up and sent you off on the trail."

"Donna, you couldn't..."

"Josh, I could have done something on my own. I should have waited until I knew who it was. Instead I ran to you and look what happened."

He sighed heavily and climbed a few steps to stand next to her. Looking down, he saw in the dimness that the corners of her mouth were turned down in that way that made her look so very young and vulnerable.

Josh sat down next to her and rubbed his hands together softly, "You did the right thing. If you had waited, both our guys would have gotten trounced in the press by Ricky Rafferty and her five minutes of fame. You have nothing to be sorry about."

Donna looked over at him, "But you and Toby..."

Sighing again, he looked down at the swollen knuckles of his right hand. "Yeah..."

She thought for a few minutes. "I knew things were tough, Josh. I've talked to C.J. over the past few weeks and I knew that things were hard for them. The President hasn't been well and they've all been under a lot of pressure. I knew."

Looking down at his hand, Josh sat for a moment and then replied, "You didn't do anything wrong."

Silence came down around them again as they both sat and looked out on the Mall in front of them. They were sitting within a two feet of one another, but each seemed enclosed in their own world of thought. The months of strained silences were hard to overcome and neither wanted to step into enemy territory.

"I always thought it looked magical out here at night," he said softly, studying the still waters of the pool. "I mean it's cool during the day, but at night..."

"Yes, it is," she replied, following his gaze, "The first time I ever saw this monument was at night."

He laughed quietly, "I remember. I was giving you 'Josh Lyman's Introduction to the Capitol.' God, it was cold that night."

"It was January, Josh. January in D.C. is always cold," Donna replied in that voice that reminded him of the days she would lecture him on the most recent economic policy or fluke of government recordkeeping that kept him from receiving an expense reimbursement. "You kept me out here for an hour going over the Gettysburg Address and the impact of the Emancipation Proclamation."

"Hey! You said you enjoyed that!" he exclaimed, the infamous Lyman dimples making their first appearance of the evening.

"An event, I might add, which is rivaled in the annals of Josh Lyman History with the time you stood at the Liberty Bell and recited the entire Declaration of Independence in front of a group of retired school teachers."

"They loved me! They were enthralled with my boyish charm and good looks!" He was smiling now, a reminder of the old days that made her heart ache with sadness.

She laughed and he realized he hadn't heard her laugh in months. He had missed that laugh and hearing it physically pulled at the pit of his stomach.

"They did," she looked over at him, smiling. "Mrs. Randall wanted you to come and have lunch with them. Except, Sam, Toby and C.J. tracked us down..."

At the mention of the names, Josh's smile fell and he turned to look back over the scene in front of them. Donna's voice trailed off when she saw his expression. It was hard to believe that the mention of their friends would cause such immediate and obvious pain.

Josh put his hand to his mouth again and then said quietly, "Today was the first time I've ever felt totally alone."

Donna thought she hadn't heard him correctly. His voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper. "What?"

Josh cleared his throat and looked down at his shoes, "Today was the first time, since I left the White House, that I felt absolutely alone."

She realized she was holding her breath and let it out slowly.

"What do you mean?"

Scuffing his toe on the step in front of him, Josh thought for a moment. He knew that showing weakness in front of her could be a political liability, but he knew her as well as he knew himself and he knew that she was the only person that would understand the loss he had suffered that afternoon.

"When I threw that punch at Toby, I realized that everything I had worked for and everyone I had counted on was gone. I wasn't Deputy Chief of Staff anymore – I was a campaign manager of a back-woods presidential candidate who doesn't trust me to run his campaign. I was a guy who couldn't even get into the White House and needed to beg to get through the front door," he stopped for a breath, his momentum carrying him forward, "Here I was the guy who promised his friends that he would do anything for them and, yet, I was throwing punches at a man who was my brother. The man who held me while I bled all over the sidewalk."

She could see the tears welling up in his eyes and felt her heart constrict in her chest.

_Oh, Joshua, what has happened to us?_

"I woke up this morning and looked at the picture Abby Bartlet gave me. It's of all of us. You, me, C.J., Sam, Toby... I thought to myself, '_What a team we were... What things we did...'_" his voice was cracking and he was losing his self control.

"Why didn't he come to me, Donna? Why couldn't he call me? Why did he do this?"

His shoulders shook and he sobbed quietly. She reached across and put her hand on his back, trying to comfort while knowing that, under it all, she had contributed to the pain that had been compounded by the fight with Toby.

"What happened to us? What happened to me? What happened to that guy who stood here and showed you the Mall that day in January? He's gone, Donna, and I don't know what to do to get him back...The only thing I have left is this campaign. There's nothing else for me. Sam left, C.J. is someone I don't even know, Leo hasn't been the same since the heart attack, Toby and I are beating the fuck out of one another, and I lost..."

She waited for him to finish, knowing what he was going to say and praying that the words hanging in the air between them would finally come out in the open. "You lost what, Josh?"

He looked her in the eye and knew that he couldn't voice the words.

_I've lost you, Donna. I've lost you. And that makes me feel utterly and hopelessly alone._

"Nothing," he replied, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and wincing as the swollen knuckle made contact. "Nothing. I'm sorry. I had a couple of beers tonight and I'm just feeling sorry for myself. You know... that damned sensitive system of mine."

"Josh..."

He stood up, clearing his throat, and looked down at her, "It's pretty late for us to be out here. Let me walk you to your car."

Donna stood up and straightened her skirt. The moment between them was over and she knew that he wouldn't approach it again, not tonight.

"No need. I caught a cab."

"Oh. Then let me wait with you."

"No. That's okay. I'm sure you have things to do before tomorrow. I'll be okay. It isn't the first time I have caught a cab in D.C. at midnight." Smiling at him, she picked up her purse and turned to walk away. Stopping after a few steps, she turned around and caught him watching her.

"Josh..." The look on her face was one of concern and he knew what she was thinking, the distance between them and the months of estrangement doing nothing to improve her ability to conceal her feelings.

"I'll be okay."

"You'll call if..."

Smiling slightly, he nodded, "Yeah... I'll call."

Gesturing to his hand, she said softly, "You really should get some ice for that."

He looked down at his hand and looked back up, but she was gone, walking off across the damp grass of the Mall.

Josh watched her walk until she had disappeared in the darkness, the hollowness in his heart a constant, heavy strain. He hadn't meant to say such things to her. He had promised himself he would keep away from her. After all, they were on opposite sides of the war and the months since she walked out of his office that day had been long, grey and lonely. He had gotten used to the idea that she was no longer a part of his life. At least he thought he had.

_So much for well laid plans, D'Artagnan.._

Sighing, he turned back to the steps of the Memorial. Sitting down, he gazed out at the lights shining in the stillness reflecting pool and waited for Capitol Security to come chase him away.

(To be continued.)


	17. Photographs 17

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you all for your incredible response to the last chapter... real life interfered and I've been unable to get back to this. Plus, my muse must be off on an extended spa vacation because I have been unable to come up with an idea. However, this is one that came to me from a LiveJournal ficlet challenge, so I thought I would go with it.

Mad, mad, witchy props to Susie for the "Peaches" exchange – there's a history behind that and I'll tell you, I laughed my ass off when it was first used. Props to Eileen and Birdie who have been such an amazing encouragement and to **slimwhistler** and **outtabreath** who keep me sane, laughing and writing. You all are amazing.

PHOTOGRAPHS (17)

"Mom, I can't talk right now, I'm trying to do my taxes... Yes, my taxes... I realize that it's only March, but I'm on the road and working between now and the 15th and I want to do them when I can... I'm sorry, Mom... No, I told you months ago that I couldn't come home for the baptism... Tell Angelina that I am sorry... Look, Mom... No, Mom... Okay, well, the Vice President is standing here, so I have to go... Bye, Mom."

Donna flipped her cellphone shut and looked around the semi-empty bar. She hadn't lied to her mother – her taxes were strewn across the table, interspersed with glasses of Diet Coke and a bowl of party mix. She could have done her taxes up in her room, but true to character, she had always done her best thinking when in the presence of others, so she grabbed her files and a calculator and wandered down to the hotel bar. There were only a couple of other patrons and the kind bartender and the noise of the television were all a welcomed comfort after the days of being on the road.

It was mid-March and they had a couple of days before the Illinois primary, so she had been sent ahead to Chicago to do some last minute ad placement. The Vice President and Will were in Washington and most of her staff were locals so she was intensely alone on this trip.

Donna stared down at the forms and receipts in front of her and took a deep sigh. Twisting her hair up on the back of her head and shoving a pencil down through it to hold it in place, she took a deep sigh and leaned her chin on her hand. She hadn't lied to her mother about the taxes, but she had lied about not being able to get away from the campaign to go to her nephew's baptism.

If she had wanted to go out to Wisconsin for the day for family matters, Will would have let her go. They had five Caucuses between the Indiana Primary and the Pennsylvania Primary, but one day without her wouldn't kill them. She just didn't want to go. She had always found it difficult to explain her life to her solidly working class, mid-western family and now, as a vital part of the Vice President's presidential campaign, she was even further removed from the Moss frame of reference.

Her sister Angelina had given birth to a little boy six months before. She had never been particularly close with her younger sister, always feeling a little like the outsider in the family, but she had sent the requisite card and flowers and gift for the baby. Donna hadn't spoken to her sister since and only sporadically to her mother and felt the overwhelming disappointment from thousands of miles away over the phone. She could hear the questions that would arise if she suddenly showed up to the baby's ceremony.

"_When are you going to find a man, Donna? And stop running around the country? When are you going to get a house and have a family? You aren't getting any younger, you know."_

Donna had heard them hundreds of times before – at Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, phone calls on Sundays. She had simply stopped going and stopped calling – she had run out of excuses and explanations.

Sighing deeply again, Donna picked up her pencil and looked back down at her worksheet.

_And I thought it was hard to get an expense reimbursement from the Government._

A moment later, her attention was caught by something on the local news broadcast being shown on the television over the bar. The anchor was discussing the upcoming Primary and film was running of Matt Santos' win in California. Santos was at a podium giving a speech and behind him, to the side stood Josh. Donna swallowed hard and watched the film, unable to take her eyes away. She had been like this from the moment the campaigns started and while she tried to keep the compulsion at bay, she could not help but surf the newscasts to catch a glimpse or mention of him in every city they visited.

Looking down at the table in front of her, Donna absently picked some party mix out of the bowl and chewed slowly. Josh Lyman was an addiction she had thought she had broken.

_Can I go to rehab for this? How would I explain it on my insurance forms?_

Daydreaming of explanations for her addicted heart, Donna suddenly heard a familiar voice walking toward her.

"...You tell Richardson that if he doesn't give us what we asked for, I'll send a guy named Peaches who likes purty smiles and is fond of spooning over to his office. Tell him that things will go smoothly if he says 'please' and 'thank you' 'cause Peaches might be rough around the edges, but he believes there's no excuse for poor manners... And tell him I'm not fucking kidding."

Josh slammed the cell phone shut and stopped abruptly when he saw Donna sitting at the table looking up at him.

"You always were a charmer, Joshua."

Josh blinked rapidly, trying to shift gears in his mind. He was tired. Tired, hungry, lonely and very, very worn out. California and Texas had taken everything out of him and while the two huge wins had given the campaign a momentum that infused everyone with energy, he couldn't remember the last time he had slept for more than five hours in one night.

"What are you doing here, Donna?"

Suddenly on the defensive, Donna looked down and straightened up her papers, saying angrily, "There's a Primary in two days, Josh. Did you think that your candidate was the only one running?"

Blinking again, Josh realized that once again, in true Lyman fashion, he had opened his mouth and spoken before thinking.

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I'm sorry. That came out wrong. I didn't mean it to sound like that."

Donna looked up at him and studied him closely. He had lost weight and his clothes were hanging loosely on him. She was certain he hadn't eaten a full meal in months.

"Sit down, Josh."

Absently staring at the chair, Josh suddenly felt as if the action of pulling out the chair was beyond his ability. Realizing the man in front of her was exhausted, Donna stood up, pulled out the chair, walked Josh over and sat him in it. She walked up to the bar, spoke with the bartender and then came back to the table.

Turning back to her taxes, she started making notations, but watched him out of the corner of her eye.

"When was the last time you slept, Josh?"

Rubbing his hands over his face, he thought for a moment.

"Ummmm... Thirty minutes on the plane today."

"Jackass. No, I mean really slept."

Josh was silent for a moment, staring off absently. "I don't know."

"Your doctor would put you in the hospital if she saw you like this."

Laughing hollowly, he said, "That's why she doesn't get to see me very often."

Josh looked over at her and then down at the table. Realizing the nature of the forms in front of him, he looked back up at her.

"Taxes?"

Not looking up, she replied, "Yes."

"Donna, you're doing your taxes in a _bar_? In Illinois? In March?"

"Yes, Joshua, I am. I can't afford an accountant like some people I know and if I don't do them now, they aren't going to get done."

Looking at the woman in front of him, Josh was amazed yet again at her resiliency and independence. And her youth. With her hair twisted up on her head and her Georgetown sweatshirt, she looked twenty-five.

_She looks like she did when I first met her._

"Need some help?"

Donna turned to him incredulously. "You can't even add up the prices of the things you get for lunch every day. Do you think for one moment you are coming near my taxes?"

Josh broke into a broad grin. "How about some company then?"

Continuing on with her notations, she threw out to him, "Damn straight, Skippy. The bartender is bringing out a blackened burger for you and you're going to sit here and eat it."

Smiling still, Josh felt himself relax into his chair. He hadn't been able to relax on this campaign - his co-workers were still too new to him, the candidate too unsure. He couldn't show weakness or familiarity with anyone and kept himself wound so tight that he sometimes thought he would run screaming to the top of the nearest water tower.

But not now. Even with everything they had experienced in the last several months, he could, on a basic level, still relax with her.

Mumbling under her breath, Donna said, "Deductions... deductions... Jesus, I don't know if I have any deductions."

"You gave those clothes and some of your old furniture to Catholic Charities, remember?"

Donna looked up at him.

"When you moved. You got rid of that old couch your roommate's cat had pissed on and some of your old clothes. Oh! And that awful lamp. Remember? We took them down in the truck we borrowed from John in the Research Pool."

She just sat and stared at him. She was amazed that he remembered all of that and that it was as fresh to him as if it had happened yesterday.

_Oh fuck me. I have got to find a rehab place._

"You must have the receipt..."

Collecting herself, she started looking through the pile of receipts at her elbow. At that point, the bartender brought up Josh's dinner, a burger and fries, and a soda.

Josh looked over at her with admiration. The simple gesture of her making sure he ate made his heart hurt.

Donna caught him looking at her and she smiled.

"Thank you, Donnatella," he said softly.

"My pleasure. Now in return, you can talk to my mother when she calls me again." The minute the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Even though she had attempted to keep the tone light, the bitterness was obvious.

In mid-bite, Josh stopped, put the burger down on the plate and studied her face. "What happened?"

"It's nothing. Just mother-daughter stuff. Nothing." Donna buried her head again in her taxes.

_Damn my big fucking mouth._

Sighing, Josh said insistently, "It's not nothing. It's a thing. I can tell from how you said it. What's going on?"

Putting down her pencil, Donna studied her hands for a moment. Sighing, looking away and then back at him, she said softly, "Angelina had a baby and they want me to come home for the baptism."

She reached into her purse and pulled out a small picture of a baby. To her, he looked much like any other baby in similarly posed pictures, but like the dutiful aunt, she carried it with her.

Josh looked down at the picture and then handed it back to Donna. He then studied the blonde in front of him intently. In their years together, he had gathered enough information to understand the strained family relations between the sisters and between Donna and her parents. After spending time with Isabella Moss in Germany while Donna was recovering, Josh had gotten to see some of the treatment first-hand and he had struggled to keep his anger in check every single day.

"Do you want to go?"

Shaking her head, Donna stuck her thumb in her mouth and chewed on the nail. A bad habit started in childhood and continued even now. "No."

"Then don't. And don't feel guilty. I know you – you will and you shouldn't."

Donna felt the tears rise in her eyes. Perhaps they were due to the stress of her job, the lack of sleep, the strain of constant travel, or the years of lost memories with her family. She didn't know and wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"I know, I know. They just don't understand me or what I'm doing and they think I should be at home, in Wisconsin. After years in the White House, they still think of me as the stupid one who left her one real chance in life..."

Donna stopped when Josh slammed his hand down on the table. Quickly looking around the bar to see if they had caught anyone's attention, she turned back to him to find his eyes blazing.

"Don't ever talk like that, Donna," he said quietly but fiercely. "Ever. You were an integral part of Jed Bartlet's White House. You were the woman who saved Social Security, the one who stopped Senator Stackhouse during the autism filibuster. You are one of the top campaign aides for the Vice President of the United States. You are bright, funny, beautiful and accomplished and if your family can't see that, they don't deserve you."

The silence between them was electric. Josh's words had shocked her to her core with their vehemence and energy. The look in his eyes had been fierce and protective and she had been holding her breath throughout the whole thing.

Looking down at his plate, Josh picked up his hamburger, took a bite. Chewing slowly, while silently trying to get control of his anger, he looked down at the plate in front of him. He had to get control of himself before he opened his mouth again and the act of eating gave him a good excuse.

Taking another bite, he looked over at Donna who was staring off absently, and said, with his mouth full, "Now. What's next on that tax form of yours?"

(To be continued.)


	18. Photographs 18

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A great many of you won't like this chapter. You may even hate this chapter – totally your right. But I've had these characters take the moral high road and now I'm going to have them be less than saints – I needed to take Josh to this place. The idea for this came from a combination of an experience Birdie had this weekend (which, in the end, doesn't really play out in this story, but she brought my muse back) and a story by **KHo** in LiveJournal. If you've never read any of her stuff, it's lyrical – musical and brilliant. If you haven't read her stuff, run, don't walk, over to LJ and take a look.

For **The Girls** (my three muses, my sisters, who keep me going every day with e-mails and love) – thank you. For **slimwhistler**, Jesus, woman... what else can I say that I haven't already said? Without your encouragement, I probably wouldn't still be writing. And for **outtabreath**, driver of the Million-Shipper March bus due to leave for John Wells' front door at 7am this Thursday, don't hate me for this.

PHOTOGRAPHS (18)

_The City of Brotherly Love._

Josh snickered. Nice motto. So far on the news, in the three days he had been in Philadelphia, there had been ten shootings, three muggings and a car fire (referred to as a "car-B-que" by the local radio DJs).

_Brotherly love, my ass._

He was sitting in the back of Pennsylvania campaign headquarters late at night working on the schedule for tomorrow's meet-and-greet with the city's Latino civil leaders. They had met today with the city's black leaders, skillfully managing to dodge shaking hands with the city's mayor, John Street. A man with a political background like that was a liability, no matter what his race.

The storefront they had called home for the last several days was primarily empty. There were a few college kids from Penn on the phones out front but almost everyone was over at the National Constitution Center for a party fundraiser. Josh had been in attendance for an hour or two, but left Santos in Rhonna's ever-capable hands and went back to the "office."

Tomorrow was going to be busy. The meeting with the Philadelphia Latino group was going to be in front of the Liberty Bell and the staging had to be perfect.

The Liberty Bell. His conversation with Donna at the Lincoln Memorial flashed through his mind.

"_An event, I might add, which is rivaled in the annals of Josh Lyman History with the time you stood at the Liberty Bell and recited the entire Declaration of Independence in front of a group of retired school teachers."_

"_They loved me! They were enthralled with my boyish charm and good looks!" _

"_They did. Mrs. Randall wanted you to come and have lunch with them. Except, Sam, Toby and C.J. tracked us down..."_

Josh sighed and put his head in his hands. He hated Philadelphia now.

Concentrating on a much unwelcomed walk down memory lane, he didn't hear the entrance of Natalie, a campaign staffer who had joined with Rhonna when Josh convinced Santos to run back in December. Soaked to the skin and smiling, Natalie had an effortless grace and "zing" about her, an attribute that along with her steadfast loyalty, calm demeanor and caring attitude toward the younger staffers had made her the campaign's coordinator of college volunteers in every city they visited.

"Josh! What are you doing here?" she said, dripping on his floor and laughing at the same time.

Josh couldn't help but smile – the woman was infectious. And pretty, even wet to the bones. Apparently, the torrential downpours from earlier in the evening hadn't stopped.

"Tying up some loose ends on tomorrow's schedule."

"Why aren't you at the Constitution Center? Aren't you supposed to be keeping the boss on a short leash?" she teased, leaning up against the doorjamb and brushing a lock of wet hair out of her eyes.

"Nah," Josh said, smiling at the reference to Santos, "I let Rhonna play prison guard tonight. What are you doing here?"

Dropping her bag on the floor just inside of the door, Natalie shrugged out of her now soaked windbreaker, "I wanted to stop in to see what the kids were doing." She pointed toward the front of the store where the Penn students were wrapping up for the night. "Sometimes they get a little eager and I have to remind them that calling someone at 11:00 p.m. and asking them to donate is a surefire way of getting a resounding 'fuck you' and losing a vote."

Josh laughed heartily. He could remember having the same problem on the early Bartlet campaigns until they got a handle on their younger volunteers. He looked over at the brunette and realized that he had never really looked at her before. Even soaked to the skin, Natalie's green eyes sparkled and she emanated ease.

"You realize that you are dripping all over the floor," he pointed to the puddle forming at her feet.

"Well, if you weren't hogging the office, I would change. I had a bag of clothes under the desk here and was going to change before I went home."

"Oh! I'm sorry," Josh made to get up from the desk, but Natalie waved him back.

"Just don't look, ok? Turn around."

"What?"

"Turn around, Josh. We have only one office here – yours – and that bathroom is the size of a portapotty. Just turn around and face the wall for two seconds."

Swiveling his chair around, Josh couldn't help but laugh and admire the woman who could so easily order her boss around.

"So why aren't you at the Constitution Center?"

"I told you. The schedule for tomorrow." Josh was still facing the wall and was disturbed to note a large crack that climbed from the floor to the ceiling.

_I hope we're deducting that from the rent._

"Uh-huh. That schedule was done at 4:00 today, Josh Lyman, because I checked it."

"Small changes."

"It's necessary for the campaign manager to finalize small changes to the schedule? You're anal Josh, but not that anal."

"I'm anal?" Josh's eyebrows shot up.

"You can turn around now."

Josh swiveled his chair around and saw that Natalie had changed into a University of Wyoming sweatshirt, black yoga pants and was braiding her hair into a long braid down her back.

"And yes, you're anal. I'm going to go make coffee. Want some?" And with that, she was out the door and down the hall to the coffee machine.

Sitting at his desk, Josh shook his head and smiled. He was tired, lonely and aching for company and Natalie's breezy personality was very welcomed.

Josh stepped out from behind the desk and wandered out to the front of the room. Natalie was talking with two young women who were the last of the students to leave for the night.

"...and if you have any problems whatsoever, here is my cell phone number. I mean it, call me. You're sure that the bus is coming? I have a couple of dollars and would be happy to get a taxi for you guys."

"No, Nat. We're fine. The bus should be rolling through in about five minutes which is just enough time for us to get soaked before we get on."

"Ok. Thanks, guys. For everything. Take care and be safe."

The girls exited the building and Natalie locked the door behind them, dimming the lights in the storefront. As she turned around, she caught Josh, watching her from his spot against the wall.

"What?"

"Are you like that every night?"

Natalie grinned, "Pretty much. I like to make sure they get home ok. I've been talking to some of these kids for months now. They aren't just volunteers, Josh, they're friends."

Busy with the coffee pot, Natalie didn't see Josh studying her. Inside he was chuckling at her calling the college volunteers "kids" as he knew she was only a few years older than most of them.

"How about I help with the schedule and whatever you have on the desk back there and then we get out of here?" Natalie said, pouring the water into the coffee maker. "Maybe both of us can get some sleep tonight."

Pushing himself off of the wall, Josh nodded and said, "Deal."

XXX

An hour later, they were done. The details of the Latino group meeting, the next day's interviews and the coverage for the Primary were done and they were each leaning back in their chairs, sipping on mugs of hot coffee.

"I'll never be able to sleep tonight now that you made me drink coffee strong enough to run a car," Josh joked, holding up his coffee cup.

"Ahhhh... that is what age does, Josh Lyman. Makes you forget that it is all mind over matter," Natalie teased. "You obviously do not frequent Starbucks for their high test brew."

Josh put his hands behind his head and leaned back. Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes.

"When was the last time you ate, Josh?" The voice was quiet and caring. The same voice she had used for the two co-eds an hour before.

He opened his eyes and looked across at her. "Dunno."

"Okay, that's it. Get your coat."

"Huh?"

"Oh that's articulate," she said, rolling her eyes, "And who is working on speeches for the candidate? You? Great."

Josh stood and walked over to grab his suit coat and trench coat from the back of the door. Shrugging into both, he had to smile. This woman was a force unto herself.

"Where are we going?"

"To the hotel to get something to eat."

"Yes ma'am," Josh did a mock salute.

As they approached the door of the storefront, the wind and the rain were apparent outside the front windows. The rain was blowing sideways and the streetlights were dancing wildly in the heavy wind.

"At least it isn't cold," Josh said somberly.

Natalie looked at him, "Well, you won't melt, that's for sure. Let's go."

XXX

Running into the Marriott lobby, they were both soaked and laughing hysterically. She had grabbed his hand to drag him along and they had run down the street like two kids, splashing in puddles and dodging the spray thrown up by the taxis zooming up and down.

"Tell you what," Natalie said breathlessly, "Let's go change and come back down. I'll meet you in the bar."

"Sounds like a deal."

They each went to a separate bank of elevators and hopped in. The Santos campaign was all over the hotel and no one was in connecting rooms.

Josh got up to his room, opened the door and walked in. Throwing his trench over the chair, he checked his cell phone and noticed a missed call.

_Must have been while I was on my way over._

He noted that the number was from Washington.

_God, I wonder what it is._

He started to return the call when he flipped the phone shut.

_One night. One night to not think about the campaign, Washington, the Primary... or Donna. One night._

Changing his clothes into a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, Josh slipped his cell phone into his pocket and went down to the hotel bar.

XXX

Natalie was sitting at a table by the window sipping on a beer. She saw him walk across the bar and gave a little wave. She was in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a v-neck sweater the color of her eyes. Her hair, still wet, was twisted up on the back of her head.

"Hey."

"Hey."

There was a moment of awkwardness and then the two started laughing. Josh found it was easy with this woman, the laughing. Her smile was infectious and every gesture was genuine.

"So..."

"I ordered for you."

Josh raised an eyebrow.

"Don't. I may be a vegetarian, but I don't assume the rest of the world is. Especially not you. Who do you think makes lunch orders half the time? I got cheese nachos and you a dead piece of cow. Burnt."

Smiling, Josh reached for the second beer on the table and took a swig. It had been a while since he had felt this, well... _comfortable_.

After making some small talk, they sat quietly munching on the food. Josh reached over and stole one of her nacho chips and Natalie was helping herself to the fries on his plate.

"So tell me something," Natalie began, slowly chewing on a french fry.

"Hey. That fry touched the burger..." Josh said, finding that it was hard to needle this woman into reacting. But it was fun to try.

"Stop changing the subject, ass." Natalie shook the french fry at him.

Josh took another bite of the burger and said, with his mouth full, "Ok. Go ahead."

"That's so pleasant, Josh. Do you do that at fundraisers? If so, I'm going to believe that the Congressman sent you back from dinner tonight and that you didn't come voluntarily."

Cocking one eyebrow, Josh just looked at her.

"Ok," Natalie said, shoving a nacho chip in her mouth and talking at the same time. Josh just laughed.

"Tell me why you look so sad all the time."

Josh stopped, mid sip on his beer, and looked at her across the table. Natalie didn't flinch and continued to meet his eyes. It wasn't an accusing look, or a prying look, it was an honest look. There was no duplicity in her eyes. After years of working in Washington, Josh new when someone was out to gain an advantage. This woman was not.

"What do you mean?"

Natalie took a thoughtful sip of her beer and sat back in her chair. She studied the man in front of her and thought of how to tell him he looked... _haunted_.

Leaning forward and picking up a chip, she used it to articulate, "We have theories, you see."

The eyebrow cocked up higher and Josh took another pull on his beer, "Theories?"

"Yeah, as to why you look so sad all the time and why you are so reserved."

Josh sat back in his chair, crossed his arms, and said, "Please go ahead. I'd love to know what the staff thinks about me."

"Oh for Christ's sake, Josh," Natalie said, her eyes flashing, "No one is talking about you that way. We just wonder. And some of us worry."

Relaxing his arms, Josh picked up his beer again. "Sorry."

Natalie shook her head, "Amazing. Ok, so John..."

"John?"

"John Anderson who handles travel?"

"Oh yeah."

"Anyway, John seems to think that you miss Washington, you know, the fighting on the hill, the glamour, the intrigue. And Amy..."

"Amy?"

"Josh, do you know any of the staffers?" Natalie said, teasing.

Josh smiled, "Ummmm... some."

"Ok, well, pretend you do so I can continue with my discussion," Natalie sipped her beer and continued, "Amy seems to think it's because of the shooting at Rosslyn."

Josh winced, as he always did when Rosslyn was mentioned.

"Sarah seems to think it's because you regret eating all of those babies."

Choking on his beer, Josh said incredulously, "I eat babies?"

Natalie was smiling now, "Well, you know... All of those incredible deals you pulled off on the Hill? Sarah seems to think you are into witchcraft and that you got your incredible diplomatic powers by eating babies. Don't ask."

Josh laughed. Watching Natalie over his beer, he realized again, how pretty she was and how her face lit up when she laughed.

"And you?" Josh said softly.

Natalie looked up at him. She studied him for a moment, her eyes never leaving his face.

"I think it's a woman."

Josh looked down at his plate. Her words had struck him and taken his breath away. They were said simply, without guile, and were utterly true.

"I think we're about done here."

Natalie nodded and collected her coat. She waited while Josh paid the bill with the bartender and then they both walked over to the elevator banks.

The lobby was empty and neither one of them had pressed the button for their elevator.

"Josh..." Natalie started.

"It's ok."

"No, Josh, listen..." she walked over and put her hand on his arm and there was a sudden jolt of electricity through him at her touch.

He raised his head and looked in her eyes knowing she had felt it as well. Natalie looked at him, reached over and hit the "up" button on his bank of elevators.

When the doors opened, she stepped in and dragged him in behind her. For the entire ride up on the elevator, they simply looked at one another. Josh studied her eyes and she looked at the line of his jaw. Not a word was spoken.

When they got out of the elevator on Josh's floor, the hallway was empty.

"Natalie..."

"No strings," she whispered, standing in front of him. "No strings, no expectations, no relationship, no regrets." She began to walk backward down the hall, facing him, with her arms spread out to her sides, "See any strings?"

Josh smiled and followed her down the hallway.

"1311," he said quietly.

Reaching his door, she stood as he opened it and silently invited her in. As she walked through the door, she stopped in front of him and said softly into his ear, "No regrets."

XXX

Later, in bed, side-by-side, Natalie was propped up on one elbow watching him. She softly ran her finger down the scar that ran along his breastbone. Josh winced slightly, but didn't move.

"Does that hurt?" she said quietly.

"No. Just feels weird," he replied without opening his eyes.

"What was it like?"

"Getting shot? I don't know. Not much of it I remember." He turned his head and looked at her, losing himself in the green of her eyes.

"What do you remember?"

"The hospital, mostly. Waking up and seeing the President and Leo. And then after, Donna..." He stopped. The name caught in his throat.

_Donna._

A quiet moment passed and Natalie said softly, "She's the one, isn't she?"

Josh nodded.

"Tell me what happened."

"Natalie, I'm not sure..."

"Josh Lyman, remember what I said? No strings, no regrets. You've bottled this up until you are a walking ghost. Let it out."

Looking over at her, he realized that she was right. And that in this room and with this woman, there was no past, no future, only now. There was no history, no mistakes to right, no anniversaries, no red lights. It was simply the two of them in the moment.

So he told her.

He told her about their time in the White House, Rosslyn, Gaza, the fight, the campaigns. He told her everything. And when he was done, the tears slipped slowly down his cheeks as he lay next to her.

"Josh, I am so sorry," Natalie softly touched his wet cheek in a manner that Josh found oddly comforting.

He turned and looked at her. "My story for yours."

She laughed softly, "I have no story."

"Yes you do. I can see it in your eyes. What are you doing here with us?"

It was Josh's turn to prop himself up and look down at Natalie, who lay down on her back and snuggled under the covers.

"Running, I guess," she said quietly.

"From what?"

"Maybe from me. From having to settle down and meet someone else's expectations. I like this life. I like the movement and the travel. I like these kids – the ones who are still dreamers and believe what the rest of us lost faith in long ago."

Josh looked down at the woman in front of him and pushed a stray lock of her hair away from her eyes. Natalie smiled at him and caught sight of the watch on his wrist.

"Oh shit! It's 4:00 a.m.! I have to be at headquarters in two hours!"

She quickly hopped out of bed, put on her clothes and slipped into her shoes. While she was dressing, Josh put on his jeans and t-shirt.

"I'll walk you to your room."

"No. If someone sees us, there will be nothing but trouble. I'm just a couple of floors up anyway." She was smiling at him and he couldn't help but smile back.

"Natalie..."

Her hand was on the doorknob and she slowly turned toward him.

"Go to her, Josh."

He cocked his head and looked at her.

"Go to her. It's not too late. You've been living as half a man and while it may help Matt Santos, it's not helping you."

She reached out and touched his cheek and then reached down and grabbed his hand. Opening his fingers, she softly kissed his palm.

"No regrets."

And then she was out the door and down the hallway. Josh leaned up against the jamb of his open door and pressed his head back against the molding.

_No regrets._

(To be continued.)


	19. Photographs 19

AUTHOR'S NOTES: (1) From here on out, the shuttle/leak thing didn't happen. – Why? Because it's boring, stupid and this is my story. (2) Leo as VP candidate didn't happen. – Why? Because I can't suspend disbelief quite that far and it doesn't work for where I plan to take this story. And this is my story.

Writing this chapter forced me to have to re-watch that god-awful season finale. (And no, don't e-mail me to tell me how good it was. I've heard the arguments. All of them. And I still think they strapped on the skis and leather jacket.) Anyway, I suffered through it again to get the dialog and time frame right. For you, I did this. And after this chapter, John Wells can go to hell.

This is for my three sisters - **Suze**, **Birdie**, and **E**. I love you guys!

**Slimwhistler** has been betaing/musing for me. She knows the "big picture" for this story and still lets me e-mail her all times of the day and night. She is a goddess.

**Outtabreath** has been the best damned bus driver I have ever met and the MSM Road-Trip may make a stop near some of you soon, so keep an eye out for us!

PHOTOGRAPHS (19)

It was 3:00 a.m. Most of the staff was asleep around the table and Josh found himself dazed in his chair, sitting ramrod straight, with his hands on top of his head.

_This can't be happening._

The white board against the wall showed that Governor Baker was sweeping away months of hard work in just a matter of hours. The days and nights on the road, the bad food, the buses and trains, the strange people, the hours of begging and pleading for money and time. It all came down to this.

Josh stood up wearily and walked over to the board. Baker was taking away their big states and Hoynes was sitting on his delegates. Rubbing his eyes, Josh studied the numbers.

_There has to be something..._

They had been calling. All day and into the night. They cajoled and threatened. But Baker still gained on Santos and Russell with no end in sight.

"We're 'this' close."

"That doesn't count, Josh," a tired voice said from behind him. Josh hadn't realized he said the words out loud and turned to find Rhonna standing up from her chair and stretching.

"What?"

"It doesn't count. 'This' close," she said, holding her index finger and thumb an inch apart, "counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. Not here."

Josh rubbed his eyes again. "I need some air."

Rhonna looked around the room at her sleeping colleagues.

"I'll go with you. If I sit there any longer, I'm going to turn into a pretzel."

The two grabbed their security badges and left the war room. The campaign staff for each candidate had been given space in the conference rooms that ringed the top floor of the convention center. Spaced far enough apart that fist-fights wouldn't break out in the hallway, the staffers pretty much kept to themselves.

Stepping out of the elevator they found themselves on the ground floor of the center, dodging cleaning crew and other staffers dazedly wandering around. Cooped in the building all day, it soon became difficult to tell day from night, one day from the next, and everyone involved on the back-end of the event soon developed a shell-shocked expression – it became the manner in which they recognized one another.

Josh led Rhonna through the security gate and outside into the summer night. San Francisco was never quiet, but the hum of the street and the flow of traffic were certainly muted at this time of the early, early morning. Walking over to a bench, Josh sat down heavily, leaned against the back of the bench and closed his eyes.

_What did I do wrong?_

There had to be something. It was all about the win. It has always been about the win. Matt may not have seen that, and the staff may not have acknowledged that, but Josh always knew it in his heart. It was about the win.

_Because without the win, what do I have left?_

Rhonna was sitting quietly next to him looking up at the night sky. She knew her boss was tired, edgy, and completely overworked and if sitting next to him quietly was what he needed, she'd do it. He was the genius that got them this far. Well, Josh and Matt, but it had been Josh's idea.

"There has to be someone we haven't called," Josh said softly.

"We can't call them now," Rhonna replied, never taking her eyes off the sky above her head.

"What?"

Looking over at Josh, she said tiredly, "We can't call them now. Calling someone at 3:00 a.m. is a surefire way of getting a resounding 'fuck you' and losing a vote."

Josh turned to Rhonna and said, "What did you just say?"

"It's something Natalie used to tell the volunteers who did the evening shift calls. Call someone at ..."

Rhonna's voice disappeared as Josh remembered hearing Natalie say those words at the Philadelphia headquarters.

_Natalie._

Josh tried to think back to the last time he had seen Natalie, but couldn't remember. In the last month of the campaign, things had gotten so hectic and confused that he couldn't remember where he had been on any given day. He knew he hadn't seen her for a few weeks at least and thought that he needed to ask around to see what had happened to her.

_When this is over..._

Groaning, Josh rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch. He knew he should go back to the hotel to shower and get an hour or two of sleep, but the effort that required seemed much better spent in trying to find a way to grab more delegates from the floor.

"We've got to go upstairs and wake everybody up. We need to find a way to get this," Josh said standing up and stretching. "I don't care if it takes gallons of coffee and special visits from the tooth fairy, we've got to find a way."

"Josh..." Rhonna said from her seat on the bench.

Turning toward her, Josh said vehemently, "We can't give up. Not yet. If the time comes when we need to get out of this, we will, but not now, _not yet_."

Rhonna studied his face and knew that he was serious and would take it down to the wire, if need be. She admired the tenacity of this man, his ability to get something in his teeth and fight for it until he was all but drained. But this...

Sighing heavily, Rhonna stood and started walking toward the door to the Convention Center, "Okay, boss. Let's go wake the troops."

Smiling, Josh scurried to catch up with her and felt his second (or was it fifth) wind coming on.

XXX

The Convention Center was eerie when it was empty. Well, not quite empty. The delegates were absent, but there were random people scurrying back and forth, cleaning, and preparing for the third night. But regardless of the people moving by him, he was still alone.

Matt Santos had never thought he would get this far. When Josh Lyman came to his house that December night, he thought he would get through a couple of primaries, get lost behind the big names, and graciously bow out to go home to Texas.

Not this. Never this.

And now, he was here. He was on the verge of being able to take all those dreams and all those promises and make them real.

"_You have to quit, Congressman."_

Leo McGarry's words echoed in his head. He knew it would come to this. He knew when Josh had repeatedly come to him, "Take the VP spot", "We'll never get California", that the other man had been quietly pushed by powers far higher than himself to say those things.

"_We have to unite behind the candidate."_

Matt leaned over and put his head in his hands. If he dropped out now and threw his weight behind Russell or Baker, the Convention would be tied up neat and clean and he would leave San Francisco the darling of the Party. But that wasn't what he wanted.

These back-room dealings left a sour taste in his mouth and made him wonder why he had ever entered politics. The delegates who stood on the floor of this room should make those decisions, not men in the shadows. That isn't democracy. That may be what the big men in the power suits thought passed for democracy, but Matt was certain if the people who traveled from all over the country to represent their states knew what had been asked of him, they'd feel differently.

"_...we need these last days to put our message before the American people."_

Their message? Baker and Russell had no message and the Democratic Party and made no moves to emphasize a message that he had seen. Message? What message were they going to send? "Hey, America - You thought you had the right to choose, but little did you know?"

Standing up, Matt looked around the Convention Center. Never in his wildest dreams in that tiny, little Texas town did he think he would be here. He pictured the depression, the dirt, the sadness and the feeling of hopelessness that pervaded the community of his youth. And he thought of the children who still lived there.

They were the reason why he was here. They were the reason why he had come this far. And they would be the reason why he wouldn't give up. Not yet.

XXX

Josh stood backstage and gauged Santos from underneath of his eyelashes. The Congressman was inscrutable and quietly paced back and forth.

He knew that Leo had been to see Matt. It wasn't often that the President's handmaiden delivered personal messages and Josh knew that the Congressman knew the weight of the occasion. And yet Josh still didn't know what Santos was going to do. In his heart, there was a glimmer of hope that Matt would walk on stage and tell the Powers That Be in the Party to kiss his ass. But the pragmatic side of Josh knew that probably wouldn't happen. What were the odds that a junior Congressman from Texas would tell the President of the United States to shove it on national television in prime time?

"Josh, it's been a great ride," Matt said softly, fatigue resting heavily in an aura around him.

Josh felt his heart sink as he responded, "What'ya say we try again sometime?"

Reaching out and shaking his hand, Santos responded, "Anytime. You just pick up the phone. I'll be there

The crowd outside was being warmed up for Matt's appearance on stage and they could hear the noise growing. As his name was announced, Matt turned to meet Helen, who was standing aside to wish him luck. Josh stepped back into the shadows and held his breath, knowing the next five minutes would change his life, no matter what words were spoken on stage.

XXX

Helen Santos watched her husband and Josh speak quietly and while she couldn't hear the words, she could tell from the way Josh hung his head when Matt turned to approach her that he thought it was over.

To be honest, she didn't know what was in her husband's speech. He hadn't let anyone read it and while she knew what had been asked of him, she left the decision completely in his court.

But she knew what was in her husband's heart. She knew that he had struggled for years to get his hopes and dreams for America's children, for the children in his own home town, out in front of the people who could make a difference. If anything, this campaign had been a platform to make his voice heard among all the other voices ringing out on any given day in Washington.

In the moments before he went on stage, Matt and Helen stood silently together. They had worked long and hard for this moment. The sacrifices they had made would be a litany of troubles to fill hours of therapist time, she was certain. But to get to this point, it was worth it.

Helen Santos didn't know what her husband had written, but she knew what he was going to say.

XXX

He had heard the speech. He knew he had heard the speech. But in the hours afterward, and in the days to follow, Josh couldn't remember a single word of it. Just the feeling of exhilaration that rose in his chest as Matthew Santos, the Congressman from Texas, threw down the gauntlet in front of the Democratic Party and the rest of America.

People came up to him afterward, slapped him on the back and told him what an amazing guy Matt Santos really turned out to be.

_I knew that_, he thought, _I knew that months ago. Where have you been?_

When the President threw his weight behind Santos and brought them the Teachers Union, the votes started rolling in and the totals on the white board in the war room swayed over in their favor.

As the hour of the acceptance speech approached, Josh and Matt sat down with Ricki Rafferty's people and lined up the first Latino/woman ticket to run in American history. If they were going to be groundbreaking, it wasn't going to be just inches down. They were going for feet here.

And the delegates loved it. The polls showed the American public did, too.

Josh thought back over the last seven months. He had believed, doubted, and believed again. He had crawled out of bed in strange rooms 99 percent of the time and had learned that Dunkin Donuts coffee does taste different in different places. He had learned that Rhonna could sing Madonna tunes pretty much on key andNed did a great Ewan McGregor impersonation. Helen Santos liked turkey sandwiches on rye and Matt Santos played a mean game of gin rummy.

But he had also learned that everyday Americans can stand up and make a difference. That a poor Latino boy in Texas could break down barriers and do things that no one had ever done before.

And when all was said and done, seven months after this journey began, he could still say he believed.

(To be continued.)


	20. Photographs 20

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Things are coming out pretty fast and furious here. I'm working overtime at the office AND coming home to write these chapters. But with **slimwhistler**'s help, I've got an outline now and know what's coming, so the muse just needs to stay on target (I can never say that phrase without thinking of Star Wars) and we'll be just dandy.

I need to say again, because I don't think I was clear – **Leo being offered the VP spot does not happen in this story.** This story has to go places and Leo with it and I'm too damned lazy to rework things to fit what John Wells threw at us. Also, some of the campaign positions are made up (a) because I wrote the initial portion of Photographs from spoilers waaaaayyy back when and these characters weren't even involved in the campaigns and (b) because they sounded good and I know little about actual political campaigns.

PHOTOGRAPHS (19)

"Sir? Donna Moss is here to see you."

Matt looked up from his papers and watched the blonde enter the room. The Convention was over and he was pulling the top minds from Russell's campaign for spots in the national theater. He was no longer just the third-place hopeful, but the hope of the Democratic Party and his staffing needs heavily outweighed his current available manpower.

"Ms. Moss," he said, rising from his chair.

"Congressman Santos," Donna replied crisply, shaking his hand and taking a seat across from him. She didn't know why she was here. Both she and Will agreed they couldn't work for Josh. It would be humiliating and, well, weird. But when the Santos campaign called, she said she'd meet with them. After all, there were still things like rent and bills and at the moment, she was unemployed. It wouldn't hurt to see what was being offered.

"I spoke to Will Bailey this morning and he has nothing but glowing things to say about you," Matt said, sitting down in his chair and leaning back. The Chicken-Fighter was here in his office and he was certain the staff outside was buzzing. After the incident with the chickens and the few instances when she and Josh Lyman were seen together, Donna Moss had become the subject of quite a bit of speculation. Some of it even occurring in the Santos household.

"Will is kind, Congressman. I'm sure what he said was..."

"What he said was true, Ms. Moss."

"Donna, please, sir. Call me Donna," smiling, she met his eyes. He didn't seem the unqualified hick they had portrayed in their ads when she worked with Russell. The gleam in his eye and his measured words revealed an intelligence that had escaped Will and Bingo Bob. They had been fighting Josh the entire time when they should have been fighting the candidate.

"Donna it is then," he said smiling. The blonde across from him smiled softly and looked down at her hands.

"I haven't forgotten what you did the night of the stem-cell vote, Donna," Santos said, shuffling some papers on his desk, "It was brave and courageous and we owe you a great deal."

"That vote was important, Congressman," she replied somberly. "I did that because I could. It had nothing to do with the campaign."

Matt looked up and studied her face. She wasn't lying. This one could be duplicitous, but she could also be, and seemed to be most often, genuine. She was like his wife in that respect. Crafty when necessary, but painfully honest when it counted.

"I want to know if you are interested in coming to work for us." There, it was out in the open. Matt knew there was a background between Josh and Donna and he was crossing his fingers that it wouldn't affect her decision to come work for them. She had a good mind – hell, she was the one who shut down Rafferty's health plan (something Ricki would have to get over during the campaign), she had outted Hoynes when he tried to duck the sex scandal, and she could apparently render Josh Lyman speechless.

How could he not hire her?

"Sir, I'm not sure you are aware..." Donna began.

"I know you worked for Josh at the White House. I know you left that job to work for Russell's campaign as Communications Director. I don't need to know more than that."

Donna studied the man in front of her and marveled at how gracious he seemed. Of course, the victor always had the luxury of being gracious but she sensed that with Matt Santos it was his normal demeanor.

"Sir, I'm not sure you are aware of my experience in this field. While I did work at the White House, and on both of President Bartlet's campaigns, I don't have a college degree, and the position with the Russell campaign was my first outside of..."

"Donna," he said softly, putting his hands on the desk in front of him. "How many of the people outside there do you think are qualified for what they are doing?" He pointed to the door, indicating his staff on the other side. "They came with me on this ride. Your qualifications far outstrip most of theirs. I don't give a damn about the college degree. Your experience itself is invaluable."

Smiling and lowering her eyes, Donna felt the first surges of pride reappear since the loss at the Convention. And then she remembered Josh.

"There's something else, Congressman..."

_Damn_, Matt thought, _I could kick Lyman's ass right now._

"I'm not sure I can work for Josh again," she said quietly, looking up to meet Santos' eye.

"Hell, Donna, I'm not sure I can work with him now," Matt said laughing and running his hands through his hair.

Sighing heavily, Donna then smiled. Josh did seem to have that affect on people.

"I'm very sorry, Congressman. It's a tempting offer, but I don't think come back to work for him or even with him. There are reasons..." Donna's voice trailed off and she looked back down at her hands.

There were a few moments of silence.

"What if..." Matt said quickly, "What if you work with him, but it's not _here_ with him?"

Donna looked puzzled, "I'm sorry?"

"What if you worked as a part of the campaign, but it wasn't with Josh on a daily basis? You wouldn't even have to see him, for the most part."

"I don't think I'm following you...Work for the campaign, but not work with the campaign?"

Matt stood up and began to pace, rubbing his chin with his hand. His children would have immediately been able to tell Donna that their father was in thinking mode.

"We have been unable to get a coherent grasp on our national issues and how to uniformly present them on a state-by-state basis. During the primaries, everything came down to last minute, the communications between different state offices was awful, and we dodged the bullet so many times it became a daily routine. I have been wanting to establish a roving issues director - one that would travel between the crisis states and co-ordinate directly with me and the senior staff. Our budget wouldn't allow it before, but now..."

Santos was excited now. This was an idea he had raised early on but had been voted down due to finances and lack of manpower. There were too many other things that needed the money and the bodies.

"It would involve a lot of traveling, but you're used to that right?" Donna nodded and watched the man before her grow more and more animated, "I want someone who has good communications skills, works well with a variety of people, thinks independently and is incredibly organized. It's a position that is tailor made for you."

Donna was floored. It was the perfect spot. She could work for the campaign, but she wouldn't be around Josh daily. She wouldn't have to feel like she was right back at square one, holding his hand and answering his phone. She wouldn't have to relive her past.

Matt Santos' enthusiasm was contagious and before she knew what had happened, she had not only agreed to take the position, but had agreed to fly up to Seattle to meet with the staff out there the next day.

"Congressman, I don't know what to say..." she said as she stood to leave.

"You don't have to say anything. I'm pleased that you could join us," he replied smiling and rising from his chair. "Do you want me to tell..."

"Please." Donna said quickly, knowing she wasn't up to the task of telling Josh that she was leaving again. Actually, she remembered, she hadn't been the one to tell him she was leaving the first time.

_I am such a coward._

"So, Rhonna will get all of your information today and I expect to hear from you tomorrow evening regarding the situation in Seattle?"

"Yes, sir." The confidence in her voice was unmistakable.

"Thank you, Donna," Matt said, holding out his hand.

"No, Congressman. It is I who should be thanking you."

XXX

Josh rolled into the hotel room they had been using during the Convention as a war room (one away from the Convention Center), smiling and shaking hands the entire way. It was a whole new ballgame from this point forward and there were only two words he could think of after hearing Matt's acceptance speech the night before.

_What's next?_

Josh nodded to Rhonna and picked up his phone messages. The brunette was handling some paperwork and talking to someone about W-4s and payroll. Looking over to the television, Josh felt himself drawn to the coverage of the previous evening's events.

_You'd think I hadn't seen it all... in person, no less._

Remembering the night before, Josh thought back to his trip to the Russell war room high atop the Convention Center. The mood was one of disappointment and rather than gloating, he felt slightly saddened by the collective grief around him. These people had worked just as hard as the Santos campaign, sacrificed just as much, and had absolutely nothing to show for it but fatigue and frequent flyer miles.

He had gone with beer for Will and Donna. A peace offering of sorts. And as the three quietly watched the remaining portion of the Santos/ Rafferty acceptance, there was a feeling of finality in the air. Thus ended one chapter, only for another to begin.

When the beer was gone, Donna silently left the room and Will in her wake not long after. Josh resisted the urge to run after Donna. He wanted to tell her he was sorry. He was sorry they lost, he was sorry she left, he was sorry the two of them couldn't even talk anymore without dancing on glass. But Will was there, silently watching, and once Will was gone, Josh knew that the opportunity, once again, had slipped silently by.

But today was a new day. And the job at hand was no easier than the one that had culminated in last night's speech. But hey – they were performing miracles here. That is, if one could believe the pundits on CNN.

"Josh?" Matt stuck his head out of the bedroom. "I need to talk to you for a minute."

Shoving his phone messages into his pocket, Josh sauntered into the bedroom. Matt settled into a chair and smiled.

"So..."

Josh broke into a wide grin that made his dimples look like they would touch one another. "Funny thing happened when I went to the Convention..."

Santos laughed and put his hands behind his head. "You thought last night was funny? Something funnier happened today."

"What's that?"

"I hired Donna Moss."

Josh's smile instantly fell and his mouth gaped open.

"You did what?"

"I hired the Chicken-Fighter. I wanted her on our side." Matt was silently gauging the other man's reaction.

_What is it with these two? How blind can they possibly be? _

"Well... Wha?" Josh was stammering and running his hand through his hair, "Ummm... What's she going to be doing?"

"Roving national issues director. We have the money now."

Falling heavily into a chair, Josh rubbed his eyes. "When did this happen?"

Matt looked at his watch and replied, "About two hours ago. And in an hour, she'll be on a plane to Seattle to meet with our Northwest headquarters."

Speechless, Josh sat and looked at the Congressman. He knew that there was rampant speculation throughout the campaign about his "relationship" with Donna. He had ignored the whispers and the glances. And the pity. He knew that Matt had heard them as well and he was unsure of how to handle the curveball just thrown to him.

"Who is she reporting to?"

"Primarily? Me. But you as well. This was the position that I wanted made and I want to know what is going on out there." The emphasis on the "_I_"portion of that sentence was not lost on Josh.

Josh sighed and realized there was nothing else to say. Looking at Matt, he knew that he couldn't argue out of this one – he'd boxed himself in by saying nothing for so long that he simply had to pretend that there was nothing wrong with the arrangement. Even though his heart was devastated she'd be on the road constantly and his head was furious she was even employed by the campaign.

_Right back to square one._

Clearing his throat, Josh said quietly, "Okay, so what's next?"

XXX

The plane was quiet and Donna was nervous at the aspect of a whole new round of meet and greets with the local campaign staff. Except this time, she was the FNG (fucking new guy) and the ball was in a completely different court.

Looking out the window, Donna realized that Josh had been right all along. Matt Santos _was_ the real thing. She had known it the night of the stem-cell vote when she heard him talking with the other member of the Senate into the small hours of the morning. If you had heard that kind of idealism in motion once, and she had certainly done that in her years in the White House, you would always recognize it again.

Smiling, she straightened the papers on the tray-table in front of her. It was time for her to start doing her homework. There was a new universe of players in front of her and a completely new enemy. She wanted to do right by Matt Santos. There was something in his demeanor that required it, as Jed Bartlet had required it from his staff.

It was time to start learning about the Santos/Rafferty campaign and how they would all get back to the White House.

(To be continued.)


	21. Photographs 21

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Margaret isn't pregnant. Too much to work around if she was, so for those of you looking for die-hard links to the current incarnation of The West Wing, this isn't for you.

Coming down the homestretch here folks. Work has been killing me, the dog ate my glasses last night and I am one tired puppy. But **outtabreath** begged, so I'll keep trudging on.

This is for my **three sisters**, **slim **(the best beta out there), **outtabreath** (the best protest leader out there), and everyone who has given such amazing feedback. Thank you!

PHOTOGRAPHS (21)

"We'll have to brief the press on the President's meeting with the Department of the Treasury tomorrow," Toby said, looking through the papers on his desk. "It's routine, but if we don't tell them that ahead of time, they'll read something unnecessary into it and we'll have the Great Depression on our hands."

Pushing her glasses up on her tiny nose, Annabeth hugged a notepad to her chest. "So what do you want me to tell them?"

Toby looked up and raised his eyebrows, "You read his schedule. You're bright. It's a simple meeting – there's no need for me to have to hand feed you this one."

Annabeth bowed her head and smiled slightly. Over the past few months, Toby had handed more and more responsibility over to her and had told her to "wing" it more often than he had given her detailed instructions. But she still liked to check.

"Ok." She checked her watch and noted that it was late. "How long are you going to be here? Need something to eat?"

Toby rubbed his head and looked up from his work. For all her crisp demeanor and brusqueness, Annabeth was caring and had become devoted to the gruff older man. Neither spoke of it, but she often came and covered him up when he fell asleep on the couch in his office, or brought him lunch or dinner, when she knew he had not eaten. Smiling slightly, he shook his head.

"I'm fine. I won't be too much longer."

Annabeth bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. Toby had decided that she was a complete ball of energy twenty-four hours a day, without fail. Even when sitting still, the kinetic energy from her very persona seemed to permeate the air around her.

"Sure? 'Cause, I could..."

"Go home, Annabeth," Toby said quietly.

Clutching the notepad even closer to her chest, Annabeth studied him for a moment, turned and walked out the door through the Communications bullpen.

Toby sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. Two months until the election. Four months until they were out of the White House. There was so much to do and so little time left.

He rubbed his hands over his head and stretched. He had been sitting all day, working on various speeches and issues to be handled by the President over the next week. It was late and Toby wanted desperately to go home and climb into bed, but there was still work to be done. And after the work was done, there was packing to consider. No one wanted to be the first to pull out a cardboard box, but there was too much to move out after the last eight years to leave it to the last minute.

Toby stood and walked over to the stereo. Looking out his door he noted that the bullpen was mostly empty since there were no crises to handle at the moment and nothing planned for the night. He threw in a disk and turned up the volume, listening to the soothing sounds of a cello float through his office. The music reminded him of Donna, who had slipped the CD onto his desk one holiday. Toby had to admit he missed her more than he thought he would. Her presence had always been a constant and after she left, there was a hollowness around the bullpen that Toby found hard to escape.

Thoughts of Donna then turned to thoughts of Josh. They hadn't really spoken since the fight in his office. They had _literally_ talked to one another, but not like the old days. Toby knew his actions with Ricki Rafferty were wrong and his fight with Josh was in part a reaction to his brother's suicide, but he couldn't move past those admissions to reach out to Josh. He still felt like he had been left behind and as his time in the White House grew shorter, he felt like he was watching everything, including the upcoming election, from the sidelines.

Sighing heavily, he rubbed his beard and turned to wander to the mess. Coffee was what he needed. Coffee and a lot of it.

XXX

C.J. blinked several times, trying to focus her eyes on the report in front of her. It wasn't working.

Margaret had left for the day several hours before, Charlie had gone to meet Zoey for dinner, and the President was about to retire to the Residence. She was alone, for once, and was having difficulty with that fact.

Sighing, CJ put down the report and leaned back in her chair. She had been doing a great deal of soul searching recently, realizing that her days in this office were now numbered, and she had yet to come up with a satisfactory answer to any of her questions. Standing, she wandered slowly around the office.

After years of thinking "when this is over" she had come to realize that that time was now and all those things she had put off doing were slipping by the wayside. Kids, marriage, and all the things she didn't think she had wanted. Years ago she had made the choice between a career and a family and she didn't regret what she had done. But part of her wished she could take back just a few of those years. A do-over of sorts.

_This is not helping_, she thought.

Rubbing her eyes, CJ decided she would take a walk through the hallways to clear her head. She wanted to finish reviewing the report on her desk so she could report to the President in the morning.

"I'll be back in a few, Gail," she said glancing at the fishbowl. "Keep the light on for me."

XXX

Wandering through the bullpen, CJ paused by Toby's office. The soft sound of the cello was inviting and she slipped into the room and sat down on the sofa. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and quietly enjoyed the concert.

"Hey," a voice said from the doorway.

Opening her eyes, CJ looked up to see Toby standing in the office door holding a cup of coffee.

"Hey," she replied with a weary smile. "I heard the music and sat down to listen for a little while."

Toby walked into the office and sat down behind his desk. Gesturing toward the stereo, he said quietly, "Yo-Yo Ma."

Nodding, CJ leaned her head back and closed her eyes again. After a few minutes, she said, "I always think of Josh when I hear this."

Behind his desk, Toby chuckled softly.

"What?" she said, opening her eyes, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he replied looking over at her, "I just thought the same thing earlier."

The two looked at one another. They were it. The last two left from the golden gang of Bartlet for President. In four months, they would be among the ranks of the unemployed – relegated to footnotes in the texts of high school seniors and clues on Jeopardy.

"What are you doing here?" CJ asked, stretching out her long legs. "The President has gone to the Residence and there aren't any crises I can think of at the moment that require our attention. Why don't you go home?"

Toby cleared his throat. "I have some things to do before tomorrow. Plus I've been thinking of packing..."

"Packing?" CJ asked. "We have plenty of time for that..."

"No." Toby interrupted. "We don't have plenty of time."

"Toby," she said teasingly, "We aren't leaving tomorrow..."

"We don't have plenty of time, CJ. Look around you. We have four months. Four months. In four months we have to finish what we started and get out of here."

The vehemence in his voice shocked her slightly. She knew that people were afraid of what would happen on Inauguration Day, but she didn't count Toby as one of them. CJ realized that it was a mistake not to do so. She also knew that in her head, she was procrastinating. If she waited to pack, to make plans for their final days, she could push aside the nagging fear and doubt that had crawled into the corner of her mind.

"Have you thought about ..." she started.

Toby shook his head, "No. I've had offers..."

"Yeah," CJ said quietly.

"What about you?"

Sighing heavily, CJ stood up and paced a little. "I've had offers, too."

"Are you considering any of them?"

CJ shook her head, "No. None of them."

"CJ..."

"Toby, I'm scared." She looked at him and he could see fear in her eyes.

"Afraid of what, CJ? We're not dying, just leaving office."

"No, Toby, really. We've been sacrificing everything for almost nine years now. And what do we have to show for it? You, at least, have Huck and Molly. Thank God for that, right? What do I have?"

Her eyes were pleading and the words were beginning to stream out of her. Toby felt his heart break. In front of him was one of the most beautiful, strong, successful women in the world who, at the root of it all, was still the same woman who fell in the pool in front of him in L.A. They had both been hiding behind their jobs and their responsibilities and neither had realized that a confidante still existed in the other.

"I gave up all of it, Toby. No kids, no husband, no prospects of a husband, few friends and soon, no job, no future prospects, and lot of free time. What do I do now?"

"CJ, wait a minute..."

"Wait? There's nothing to wait for, Toby. It all went by when I was here. I kept saying 'after this is over', 'when we're all done', and I realize now, we're all done and I don't know what to do."

CJ's voice was desperate and Toby walked over to her and took her hands in his. 'We knew, CJ. We knew when we did this..."

Tears in her eyes, CJ laughed hollowly, "We knew? Yeah, we knew we would be handing our lives over. But they never told us what to do when it was over. What now, Toby? What now?"

"That's not the right question," said a male voice from the doorway of the office.

CJ and Toby, who had been in the far side of Toby's office, turned to see Jed Bartlet standing in the doorway. The President was leaning heavily on his cane and the years had etched their path across his face, but he could still come and raise the spirits of his senior staff when necessary.

"Mr. President," the two said in unison.

"Claudia Jean, _What now?_ isn't a question we've ever asked in this White House and we won't start now. _What now?_ implies defeat and resignation. We don't do that here."

CJ bowed her head. The President looked at her and Toby could see compassion in his eyes.

"I have asked a great deal of all of you. You all sacrificed more than any human being should be asked to give. I know this. Don't ever think that I don't know what you all have had to give up to serve in this building. But don't use that as an excuse to stop.

"You are a bright, beautiful, amazingly capable woman who has an entire generation of women to teach and mentor. You are not done with doing good, Claudia Jean. It may take you a while, once you leave this place, to find what it is that you are meant to do in the next phase of your life, but your good works are not over.

"And you, Toby. You have a gift. It's a gift that few have and fewer share and you must go forth and teach the future leaders of America to dream and put those dreams on paper. There is no excuse for you not to impart your knowledge to others and if you don't, your children can only point to you for that failure.

"You both may think that Matt Santos will carry on the legacy of this White House, but that is not the case. It is you and those you teach who will carry on our legacy."

The President turned to leave and then stopped. He turned back to CJ and Toby and said to both of them, "I said that _What now?_ is not an acceptable question in this White House. What's the right one?"

"I'm sorry, Sir?" CJ said, puzzled.

"Toby," the President said, gesturing with his cane, "I know you know."

Toby and the President stood for a moment, quietly studying one another, their eyes locked. Slowly, Toby smiled and the President did the same. CJ, still confused, looked from one to the other and said, in a slightly peevish tone, "Ok, clue me in..."

"The question, Toby... What's the right question?" the President said softly, the smile never leaving his face.

Looking over at CJ, Toby met her eyes and smiled.

"_What's next?_"

(To be continued.)


	22. Photographs 22

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Suspend whatever disbelief you have to for this one. I've had it in my head for eons.

Many, many thanks for **outtabreath** for beta-ing. And to everyone for their encouragement. Special congratulations to **ecouteuse **who just signed a book deal – I aspire to her talent.

And of course, to my **sisters** and **slimwhistler**, who always keep me on my toes.

PHOTOGRAPHS (22)

"I'm too old for this," Josh said, hauling himself over the white split-rail fence of the farm's north pasture.

"It's good for you," Toby said from a few feet in front of him.

The two were at the Bartlet farm in Manchester with Leo for a discussion on last minute public relations matters for the Santos/ Rafferty campaign. Josh left the Congressman doing a weekend of meet-and-greets in the mid-West (Bram and Rhonna were chaperoning) and he had traveled up with Leo from Washington. President Bartlet and the First Lady were taking a short vacation at the "New Hampshire White House" and Toby had accompanied them to work on some end-of-term policy messages. The two men had gotten up early and had agreed to take a walk through the farm's pastures to work out some issues.

The talk had been productive – standing in the soft October air, they had finally challenged one another over Josh's departure from the White House, Toby's dalliance with Ricki Rafferty, and all the things they had buried for months. It had felt good, and frightening, to get it out in the open and when they were done, a weight had been lifted from each of them. They were not back to what they were, but they were miles away from what they had been.

After they hashed out their personal issues, they had jumped into the business at hand. Striding back toward the farmhouse, they were eager to get started with the President. Toby, always in a hurry, was walking toward the house like a man with a mission. Josh felt winded and was reminded, yet again, that he didn't get outside enough, didn't exercise enough.

_When this campaign is over..._

"Oh man," he said, stopping in his tracks and breathing heavily, "I'm outta shape."

Toby turned, walked backwards and threw out at him, "You've always been out of shape. You haven't been _in_ shape since you were twenty-five. C'mon in the house." And with that, the older man turned and continued on into the farmhouse.

Josh stood for a moment and felt the familiar fatigue work its way through his limbs. But this time, it was followed by a sense of lightheadedness and nausea in the pit of his stomach. He leaned over and put his hands on his knees.

_God, I have got to eat better_, he thought. _ Thank God this campaign is almost over_.

Taking a few deep breaths, he straightened up and started walking toward the farmhouse and the hard day of work planned ahead.

XXX

It had been a long time since Donna had to step into a campaign running at full throttle. The last time she had taken the leap was when she walked into Jed Bartlet's campaign headquarters in New Hampshire almost nine years ago. It had been hard that time, the trip across country and the challenge of jumping without a safety net, but for some reason, she felt this time was harder. With the Bartlet campaign, she had no past to escape, no failures to excuse. With the Santos campaign, she had just walked away from the biggest failure of her professional (and one could argue personal) career and she felt its constant shadow everywhere she turned.

She could see the eyes following her and hear the whispers when she entered the room.

"_She's the Russell woman..."_

When she accepted the job from Matt Santos, she hadn't deluded herself that the people in the ranks of the campaign would accept her with open arms. And she honestly didn't blame them.

_Bob Russell was a douche and you knew it_, she chastised herself. _But that doesn't excuse the fact that he lost and part of that is your fault._

Donna shook her head and turned her attention back to the telephone surveys that had been taken the last few days. The numbers were tight and she had a sinking feeling in her stomach that Washington was going to be a close call.

"Donna?"

She looked up and saw a young, red-headed man in her doorway.

"Jim," she said smiling, "What's up?"

"I was just wondering if you wanted some lunch. We're heading over to Lenny's for sandwiches."

Donna smiled softly and looked at the papers in front of her. _This really needs to be done_, she thought. _Lunch can wait_.

"Thanks, Jim, but I've got to finish with these surveys."

The young man nodded and turned down the hall.

Sighing, Donna shoved a pen behind her ear and continued to read the survey results, wishing she was comfortable enough in her position and in herself to join the others for lunch.

XXX

Night had fallen early in New Hampshire and there was a chill in the air out on the farmhouse porch. Leo, Josh, Toby and the President had worked through the day and broke for dinner with the First Lady. Josh had taken his mug of coffee out on the porch to have a few minutes alone.

He hadn't lost the nausea and lightheadedness from earlier in the day. Figuring it was simply fatigue from a year and a half of unbelievable stress, he vowed to see the doctor when the election was over.

_It's just a month. And it's probably just exhaustion._

Looking out into the dark night, Josh wondered what Donna was doing out in Seattle. He had spoken to her several times a week since she left to take the Mid-West spot and each time, they were polite and courteous, but nothing like what they once were. Donna sounded utterly professional over the phone and was doing a remarkable job – Matt Santos thought the world of her – but Josh could hear a hint of sadness in her voice. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but felt the distance between them prevented such liberties now.

Sighing heavily, he took a sip from his coffee cup.

XXX

Donna was lonely. She was fighting the urge to pick up her cell phone and call Josh. _Josh of all people!_ But she desperately wanted his advice and a familiar shoulder. And every time she picked up the phone to call, she suddenly remembered that they weren't like that anymore. They weren't confidantes or best friends. She didn't know of a word that could describe what they were, but they weren't the Josh and Donna of the old days.

Sighing, she threw down her pen and grabbed her coat. She had been fighting desperate loneliness for the last couple of days and had thought she had it under control. But today, she has a strange feeling of unease that she couldn't shake and couldn't name. Perhaps a walk would clear her mind.

Leaving her cell phone on her desk, she shrugged into her coat and stepped out through the door.

XXX

"Where's Josh?" the President asked, settling himself into his favorite wing-back in the den. "We should finish up with this stuff today. We've got more to handle tomorrow."

"I think he went out on the porch for a minute," Abby said from the doorway to the dining room.

"I'll get him," Toby replied, walking toward the front door. "He's probably calling the Congressman."

Stepping through the front door, Toby looked around for Josh. The porch stretched the length of the front of the house and was lit from the interior light shining out through the large windows of the first floor. As he looked back and forth, Toby couldn't see the younger man. As he moved further into the dark reaches of the porch, Toby noticed a figure on the floor.

_Oh my God. Not again._

"Josh!"

Toby ran over to the younger man and reached for his pulse. He heard footsteps behind him as Abby and Leo, having heard his cry, ran out from the den.

"Toby, what happened?" Abby asked, switching into doctor mode and reaching to take Josh's pulse.

"I don't know," Toby stammered, not knowing what to do or how to help. The feeling of deja-vu was sickening and for a moment, he thought he would throw up.

"Leo. My bag is in the front hall closet," she said in a clipped tone. "Please go get it for me."

Leo stood for a moment, frozen at the sight of Josh lying on the porch floor. He hadn't been there at Rosslyn, hadn't seen Josh collapsed in a pool of his own blood. This was his Rosslyn and he felt immobilized and couldn't find the strength to move his feet.

"Now, Leo!" Abby ordered, looking over her shoulder at the older man.

At Abby's bark, Leo turned and ran into the house to get the medical bag.

XXX

Josh woke to find Toby and the First Lady leaning over him in the dark. He looked around, puzzled, and said quietly, "What happened?"

"That's what I need you to tell me, Josh," Abby said firmly, taking her bag from Leo who had just returned from his mission.

Looking around at the faces standing over him, Josh had to admit to himself that he didn't know what happened. One minute he was drinking out of his coffee cup and the next minute, he was lying here on the Bartlet porch.

"I don't know," he mumbled.

"Have you been feeling funny?" Abby asked, pulling out her stethoscope. "Have you had any strange symptoms recently?"

Josh thought for a moment and said softly, "I've felt a little light headed today. And sick to my stomach. That's it."

Abby watched him while she listened to his heart rate and checked his breathing. "Did you have any pain? Feel flushed?"

Sighing heavily, he nodded. "I thought I was running a fever this afternoon. I chalked it up to fatigue or the flu or something crappy like that."

Pulling away her stethoscope, Abby looked down at him. "When was the last time you saw your cardiologist, Josh?"

Meeting her eyes momentarily, Josh turned his head away and mumbled an answer.

"What?" Toby said, "We couldn't hear you."

Josh looked up at the two of them and said, in a tone that sounded like a punished school-boy, "Before Donna went to Gaza."

"Oh for Christ's sake, Josh!" Leo said from over Abby's shoulder, "You haven't been to see her in a year and a half?"

Closing his eyes, Josh sighed heavily. He simply hadn't had the time to go see Dr. Sherman. He knew what she would say anyway. It was the same thing she said every visit. Cut down on the stress, watch what you eat, blah, blah, blah. He couldn't be who he was if he took her advice, so he simply didn't go.

"You're going to the hospital," Abby said firmly, putting her instruments back in the bag.

"No."

"Josh..." Toby started.

Slowly sitting up, Josh said vehemently, "No! I am not going to the hospital. I'm tired, that's all. I don't have time to go to the hospital, I don't have time for tests. The election is in a month and I need to be in Washington. End of story."

Josh got shakily to his feet, angrily waving off help from Toby and walked past the small group and into the farmhouse.

Leo, Toby and Abby stood silently for a moment.

"What happened?" Leo asked quietly.

"I'm not sure," Abby answered, studying the door through which Josh had entered the house. "I think it was a warning sign. And I think he needs to see a doctor, other than me, right away."

"He won't do it," Toby said, rubbing the top of his head. "He'd rather die than leave Matt Santos in the lurch."

Abby turned her head toward Toby and said sadly, "It may come to that."

XXX

Josh was standing in the kitchen with a glass of water when he heard the President walk into the room. Turning slowly, he faced Jed Bartlet and said, "Mr. President."

Jed stood for a moment studying the man in front of him. A man who had certainly walked in the shadow of death and had come out swinging. A man who had sacrificed everything to be at the beck and call of two men – one who had made history and one who was making it.

"Abby told me what happened," Jed said softly, moving to sit down in one of the chairs by the kitchen table. "You need to see a doctor, Josh."

Smiling slightly, Josh said, "Are you implying the First Lady isn't a doctor? Last time I checked she was..."

"Don't be a smart-ass, Josh," the President said, refusing to crack a smile, "This is no laughing matter."

Josh looked down into the glass of water in his hands. He was happy to see that his hands had stopped shaking – it had been difficult to get the control he needed to simply take the glass out of the cabinet earlier.

"No."

"Josh, I can order you..."

"No, Mr. President. You can't and you won't," Josh said softly, taking a seat across from Jed. "I need to be in Washington with the Congressman. We have less than a month to go. We have an incredible chance of winning. I can't leave him to handle the last month on his own. I won't do it. I didn't give up everything and come this far to leave what I have left a month before the election."

Pleading, Josh looked into Jed Bartlet's eyes to see if he could find an ally. If anyone would side with him, it would be the man who had struggled through a debilitating disease to continue to serve his country. Jed felt what Josh was saying in his heart. He knew trying to convince the man to go to the hospital was a futile task and had told his wife as much when she asked him.

"Alright," the President said, watching the relief sweep over Josh's face. "But you will be going with Abby tomorrow to Boston to see a cardiologist friend of hers."

Josh started shaking his head, but Jed cut him off, "It's Sunday. No one will be in the office but you, Abby, Tom Culver and a nurse. She made sure he understood the necessity of privacy. And this you _will_ be doing."

Jed stood up and began to walk out of the kitchen. As he left, he threw over his shoulder, "And don't argue with my wife. It never works and gets you into more trouble than you can imagine."

XXX

The next morning, Josh rose and was immediately put into a car with Abby Bartlett for the hour drive to Boston. The cardiologist who was to see Josh was one of the best in New England and was an old friend of the Bartlet family. He had agreed to come in with one of his most trusted nurses to see the person Abby had described as "an old family friend". Both Abby and Josh said little on the drive to Boston as the worked or watched the scenery go by outside of the car window.

When they entered the cardiologist's office, Tom Culver immediately recognized his patient, but diplomatically said nothing. If Josh Lyman wanted to keep this on the quiet, Dr. Culver would certainly honor his patient's wishes.

"Josh, come on back to an examining room so I can take a look at you. Just do me a favor and leave your cell phone out here. I find them a little distracting."

Josh took his cell phone off his hip, turned it off, and handed it to Abby Bartlet. He then turned and followed Dr. Culver down the hallway.

XXX

The feeling of unease had not left Donna all night and into the next day. Even though it was Sunday, they had volunteers manning the phones and going door to door, and she had an afternoon meeting scheduled with a professional pollster to see what they could do about the flagging numbers in Washington.

Pouring herself another cup of coffee, Donna tried to figure out what was causing her to be so edgy. It wasn't the job, because even though she had self-doubt, she knew that the Congressman was pleased with the way the national message was beginning to coalesce in the final weeks of the campaign. It wasn't her upcoming trip to Wisconsin – she had already called her family and told them that with a few weeks left in the campaign, she would be unable to break away to see them when she was in the state. It wasn't even the fact that she had begun to miss Washington, D.C. because she knew she would be back there soon.

It was something else. Something deeper and stronger and much more upsetting that was causing her to feel this way.

She just didn't know what it was.

XXX

Tom Culver stepped out of the examination room and walked down the hallway toward where Abby Bartlett sat reading from a file in her lap. When she saw the doctor, she set aside the file and stood.

"What is it?"

Tom looked at her sadly, "It's what you thought it was. At least from what I can tell. He won't let me admit him to run tests so it's hard to be sure."

Abby nodded, "What can we do?"

"Well," Tom said, sighing, "I can prescribe him some meds. If he'll take them regularly, it may slow it down slightly, but I would feel a hell of a lot better if he was checked into a hospital by night fall."

Smiling, Abby replied, "It's not going to happen."

Shaking his head, Dr. Culver said, "I know. I could tell that even before I said anything to him. I'm worried that the residual injury from the gunshot, the stress he's under, and the incredibly poor care he seems to take of himself is going to escalate."

Abby sat back down in the chair. She knew Tom was right. Any time you are dealing with the human heart, you took a risk.

"Have you told him?"

Tom shook his head, "No. I told him I wanted to come out here and consult with you first. He's getting dressed. He can't go on like this, Abby. If he keeps up this pace, it will kill him."

She stared down at her hands for a moment and then looked up at the doctor, "I'll tell him."

XXX

The first fifteen minutes of the ride back to Manchester was silent. Josh stared out the window as the city of Boston disappeared behind them and Abby stared ahead, phrasing the words in her mind.

"Josh," she stared, not yet looking at him. "You have to quit."

Not turning toward her, he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the car window. He knew things were bad. He knew when he looked in Tom Culver's eyes as he answered the dozens of questions that were asked of him and saw the reaction there.

"No."

Turning to look at him, Abby continued, "You are risking a full-scale, drop dead heart attack, Josh. That little episode on the porch was a warning sign. If you keep up at this pace, you are going to die."

He still didn't turn to look at her and Abby knew that she had to reach him somehow and make him understand the seriousness of his situation.

"Josh, this isn't a lark. It's not a joke. Your arteries were heavily damaged at Rosslyn. You probably have Coronary Artery Disease, although we won't know for sure without some tests. The stress you have been under for the last year and a half has forced you to go as far as your heart can take you. When you collapsed on the porch, it was your body telling you that you can't take much more."

Josh opened his eyes and watched the scenery fly by the car window. He loved New England. He had loved it growing up, in college, in law school. Every trip he took up here felt like he was coming home.

"I can't leave the campaign," he said softly.

"I know that," Abby said, a tone of resignation in her voice.

"Then what do you want?"

Abby thought her heart would break at the sadness in his voice.

"If Matt Santos wins, he is going to ask you to be his Chief of Staff. That's a given. You can't do it."

Turning to look at her, Josh knew instantly she was right.

"If you take that position, you'll end up dead." The matter-of-factness in her tone made the statement all the more ominous.

Josh looked back out the window and thought about what she had said. She was right – Matt Santos would ask him to be Chief of Staff. Josh really hadn't thought past the election, but Abby was right. He wanted back in the White House. He had loved his time there, both the ups and the downs. He wanted to feel a part of the process again, to feel important, to feel like he made a difference.

"Mrs. Bartlet..."

"Josh, I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. When we get back to Manchester, you need to call Congressman Santos and tell him what happened up here. Prepare him for the fact that you won't be going to the White House with him. Because if you don't call him, I will."

Josh recognized the look in Abby Bartlet's eyes and knew she wasn't kidding.

"It's that serious?" he said softly, looking out the window.

"Yes, Josh," she said quietly, "It's that serious."

XXX

When they reached the farmhouse in Manchester, Josh went to the den to call Matt Santos while Abby met with Leo, Jed and Toby and told them the doctor's diagnosis. The room was silent when Josh walked back in from his phone call.

"It's done," he said to Abby.

Nodding, she indicated for him to take the seat next to her.

"What are you going to do, Josh?" the President asked quietly.

Putting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward, Josh looked at each of them. "You all, Matt Santos, and Dr. Culver are the only ones who know about this. I'd like to keep it that way. The campaign doesn't need to lose any press coverage over this and I don't need to be distracted in the last weeks of the campaign."

"Shouldn't we tell..." Toby started.

"No one." Josh broke in vehemently. "No one needs to know about this. I've told the Congressman the situation. None of the staffers need to know, CJ doesn't need to know, Charlie doesn't need to know."

Abby said softly, "Donna..."

Whipping his head around to look at her, Josh said forcefully, "She absolutely _will not _know about this. Period."

The room was silent for a moment.

"What are you going to do after the election?" Leo asked, studying the lines in Josh's face that seemed to have gotten much deeper over the course of the weekend.

Josh rubbed his hands over his face and then replied, "I've been getting offers from various places. Think tanks, universities, things like that. I've been blowing them off, but I guess now I'll have to think about them a little bit more seriously."

"Josh..." Toby said quietly.

"I think I'm going to go lie down for a while," Josh said, standing up and cutting off any further conversation. "It's been a long day so far and we've got some more work to do before we go back to Washington."

Nodding to everyone, Josh turned and left the room. They heard his feet slowly going up the stairs to the second floor and then disappearing into the upper part of the house.

The group sat quietly, shocked and stunned at the turn of events that had taken place over the last few days. They all felt drained and much, much older than their years.

Walking over, Abby slid her arms around Jed's shoulders and said softly, to no one in particular, "He'll be ok."

Jed replied, looking out the far window to the pasture outside, "We can only hope."

XXX

Donna looked out over the Seattle night sky as she packed her bags for Wisconsin. The unsettled feeling she had experienced for the last several days lingered and she caught herself, again, reaching for the phone and dialing Josh's number before she hung up. 

Sighing, she threw the last item in her bag and zipped it closed. Carrying it to the front door, she set it down so it would be handy early in the morning when the airport limousine picked her up for her flight.

_I wonder where he is right now_, she thought. _ What is he doing?_

She could picture him shaking hands and managing the Congressman through one meeting into another until the whole day seemed spent in kissing babies and begging for votes. Josh was good at that, managing people. Managing himself, on the other hand...

Donna changed into her pajamas and crawled into bed. Four a.m. came early and she wanted to be ready when she met with the Wisconsin contingent in the morning. Turning off the light by the side of the bed, she burrowed down under the comforter and tried to go to sleep.

XXX

In his bedroom in the Manchester farmhouse, Josh lay with his hands behind his head, studying the ceiling. His conversation with Abby Bartlet from earlier in the day was on constant replay through his head and he couldn't run away from the consequences of today's actions.

_They can't tell, Donna. They can't tell, Donna._

That mantra was a constant background to the other conversations of the day that would simply not leave him be.

_Four more weeks_, he thought. _I just have to hold on four more weeks._

Sighing heavily, he rolled over, punched the pillow into shape and tried to fall asleep.

(To be continued.)


	23. Photographs 23

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Home stretch, people, home stretch. We're working up toward the end so I can write about something else for a while.

Read/review/enjoy.

PHOTOGRAPHS (23)

Election Day was bright and cold in Washington, D.C. Josh was so excited he couldn't sleep and woke after only two hours of fitful rest on his living room sofa. Hopping up, he wandered into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee.

_Just this once_, he thought to himself remembering Tom Culver's warning. _If I don't have caffeine today, I'm not going to make it._

Leaving the coffee to brew, he headed to the bathroom to take a shower and prepare for the day.

XXX

Matt Santos hadn't slept at all. As the night wore on into early morning and Helen tossed and turned next to him, he got up, looked in on the children and then wandered down into the living room. They were home in Texas to vote and then would fly, the entire family, back to Washington by mid-morning to be at Santos/Rafferty headquarters until the poll results were finalized.

Sitting in the living room, in his favorite leather arm chair, the one Helen hated, but kept because he loved it so, Matt thought over the events of the last year. The campaign for the Democratic spot, the whirlwind campaign against Vinnick, the months of handshaking, begging, coffee meetings, rubber chicken and pushing to get his own way. It hadn't been what he had expected. It had been harder than he had imagined.

Helen came downstairs as morning was breaking through the windows and found Matt in his old leather chair. He was quietly studying a spot on the wall and she knew that he had neither slept nor moved in several hours.

Rather than disturbing him, she padded softly into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. It would be a long day ahead of them and they needed all the help they could get.

XXX

The automatic timer on her coffee machine kicked in around 5:30 a.m. and Donna awoke to the wonderful smell of brewed coffee when her alarm went off at quarter of six. Crawling out of bed and sliding her feet into a pair of slippers, for a moment she was confused. It had been several months since she had been in her Washington apartment and getting her bearings again after so many nights on the road would take some time. A registered voter in the District, Donna had flown back from Seattle the day before to vote and then meet with the other staffers at headquarters to monitor the exit polls.

Pouring herself a cup of coffee, Donna leaned back against the counter and inhaled the aroma. She had lived on coffee for the past year, learning that beggars couldn't be choosers and that the brew out of the pot in a backwoods gas station was nearly as good as the best Starbucks could offer when you needed it bad enough. Taking the cup with her, she slowly walked out into her living room, gathering her strength for the day ahead.

As she walked by her bookshelf she noticed the picture from the second Bartlet Inauguration. She wasn't sure why she had kept it out all this time. She simply knew she couldn't bear to put it away, yet. She was almost there, almost. She knew she could now talk to Josh, on the phone, without feeling like her heart was in her throat. She knew she could watch him on television without feeling quite so overwhelmed by feelings she'd rather bury far beneath the surface. She just wasn't sure she could see him and she wasn't certain she could exorcise him completely from her life.

_Soon_, she though. _Just not quite yet_.

Sighing, Donna wandered into the bathroom to take a shower and get ready for her day.

XXX

"Abigail," the President said firmly as Abby emerged from the bathroom at the Manchester farm. "We're going to be late."

Looking at her husband, Abby rolled her eyes and wandered back to finish her makeup, "Keep your pants on Jethro. It's not as if they won't part the sea for us when we get to the voting booth."

Jed was getting dressed while keeping one eye on CNN and the other on the Washington Post. His wife's teasing did nothing to ease the nervousness he felt this day. While he had run for this office twice, and won, he didn't think he had ever felt quite as nervous about the results as he did today.

"You want some coffee, Abby?" he asked, studying the talking heads on the television.

"I probably shouldn't, and I know you shouldn't, but yes, I will. It's going to be a long day," came the response from the bathroom.

Jed poured his wife a cup of coffee and, grabbing his cane, he carried it into the bathroom to her. When he got there, he stood in the doorway and studied his wife. Eight years in the public spotlight and many tragedies, both personal and professional, had done nothing to dampen her beauty. He knew his hair had grayed, his eyes clouded, and his gait certainly slowed, in the last several years but he could see no change in his wife.

"You're beautiful," he said softly, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "I don't think I say that enough."

Smiling and fastening her earring, she turned around and faced him. In her eyes, she could see the age, but in her heart, she only saw the young man she married so many years ago.

"Give me my coffee, Romeo. We have to go vote."

XXX

CJ wandered into the West Wing at daybreak on Election Day, vowing to go vote as soon as she caught up with everything on her desk. She was taking the opportunity of the President's short absence (he and the First Lady would be returning to Washington as soon as they cast their votes in New Hampshire) to review a few things that kept getting placed on the back burner when he was in the office.

As she tossed her coat onto the rack in the corner of her office, she wandered over to her desk, flicked on the television (CNN, of course) and fed Gail. Staring down into the fishbowl, she momentarily thought of Danny Concannon and wondered where he was at that moment.

_Probably traipsing around the world pestering other world leaders_, she thought.

Dusting her hands on her skirt, she turned and walked out of her office for her morning tour through the bullpen. It was early enough that a skeleton staff was the only thing moving. Today would be chaotic as people came and went to vote and handle last minute items. She fully expected this and prayed no national or international emergency would arise that required their undivided attention.

As she walked by Toby's office, she could see that the lights were off and the door was closed. That was normally a sign that he had fallen asleep on the couch and Annabeth had tucked him in, for lack of a better phrase. Taking a breath, CJ turned the handle on the door and walked into the office.

Inside, on the sofa, Toby was sleeping, his feet hanging off the edge and poking out from underneath of the afghan that had been spread over him. The television was on, with the volume turned down low, and the blinds had been drawn to shield him from the morning sun.

_Annabeth certainly looks out for him_, CJ thought, shocked at the sudden jolt of jealousy that went through her.

Walking over, CJ opened the blinds and let in the weak morning sun. Turning, she saw Toby rub his eyes and slowly sit up.

_He's like a dog. Wakes at the smallest sound..._

"What time is it?" he mumbled, rubbing his hands over his head and stretching.

"Early," she replied, turning up the volume on the television. "I don't think I need to ask this, but have you been here all night?"

Blinking, Toby looked up at her, "Yeah."

"Then go home, take a shower and get something to eat," she said, smiling, knowing that otherwise, he would wander the halls and wreak havoc all morning.

"What's the news?"

Laughing, she said, "There is no news yet, Toby. The polls just opened. Now go home, get yourself together and get back here. That's an order."

Walking out the door, she heard his voice behind her. She stopped and turned around.

"What did you say?"

Clearing his throat, Toby looked up from underneath of his brow, in a way that was unequivocally his and said, "He's going to win."

CJ studied the man in front of her for a moment and then turned to continue on to her office.

XXX

Santos/Rafferty headquarters was chaotic at around 9:00 when Donna finally made it in after voting. Televisions were blaring, shoved into every conceivable free space, people were both frantic and zombie-like as they realized it was Game Day and there were no last minute rabbits that could be pulled out of the hat.

Donna wandered over to a desk in the corner that looked unoccupied, threw down her bag and coat and picked up the phone. It would be 6:00 a.m. in Seattle, but she was sure the staff out there was ready to go. On voting day, they were organizing to be outside the polls (beyond the requisite number of feet required by Federal law) and once she had checked in with the West Coast, she would work her way east.

Josh blew through the door at 9:16 looking weary, but excited. He spent the morning bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, yelling (to no one in particular) and making call after call. The Congressman and his wife came through the door early in the afternoon and Josh, Rhonna and some of the "old" staffers disappeared behind the conference room door with them.

For once, Donna felt left out of the game. Even when she was working in the White House, Josh had kept her "in the loop" and today was the first time that she was really playing on their terms. She was part of the team, but not one of the big players and it served to confirm to her several of the feelings she had been trying to work through as Election Day approached.

XXX

As time slid by and afternoon rode into evening and evening turned into night, the campaign staff crowded around the televisions watching the coverage. CNN, Fox, MSNBC, nothing was missed or considered to inconsequential to be viewed on a TV somewhere in that building.

Josh paced back and forth calling out for an update every so often. Certain staffers had moved to a local hotel ballroom where the victory (or concession) speech would be given once the polls had closed. He noted that Donna sat in the corner still, calling out to Seattle, Chicago, Detroit and the other big mid-western and northwestern cities to get updates on their situations. He had been watching her out of the corner of his eye all day, but had yet to go speak to her.

At one point, someone had food brought in and the hungry, weary staff sat down to eat, eyes still glued to the television coverage. Josh took the opportunity to go grab another cup of coffee and have a moment to himself. As he walked into the conference room, he heard a voice beside him.

"Isn't that against doctor's orders?"

Josh whipped his head around and saw Helen Santos standing a few feet away. The two had never been friends – hell, they had barely been allies – but Josh could see the compassion in her eyes.

"Mrs. Santos..."

"Matt told me, Josh. My husband is very bad at keeping secrets from me," she said softly, taking a few steps closer so their voices wouldn't carry. "How are you doing?"

Exhaling and looking down into his coffee cup, Josh said slowly, "I'm hanging in."

Helen nodded, knowing the man who had spent months completely wrapped up in the campaign wouldn't give away a small part of himself even now.

Turning to leave, Helen stopped and said softly, "He wanted you in the White House with him, Josh. He understands, believe me, but if you could have gone, he'd take you there. You know that, right?"

Staring at the wall and working his jaw muscles, Josh nodded. He knew. He knew what he was giving up and knew what lay in front of him. It was a painful knowledge, but one he was learning, slowly, to understand.

XXX

Jed and Abby had invited some of the senior staff into the residence to watch the election results. It was the first time in years that many of them weren't involved in a campaign and didn't have a vested personal interest (in terms of future employment in this very building) in the outcome.

Lounging around the living room, Jed looked out over the people who had walked with him up the mountain and down through the valley. Some were recent to the journey, some had been there from the beginning. Before it was all over, he would tell them, each and every one, what they meant to him, what their sacrifices had meant to them. But he wouldn't do it tonight.

"Hello, Jethro," Abby said, smiling as she put her arm around his waist. "You're awfully quiet tonight."

Smiling at his wife, Jed said simply, "Just thinking, my dear. Just thinking."

"Well, think over here with your friends, not off in the corner," Abby grabbed his hand and pulled him over toward CJ and Toby.

Nodding, Jed walked over and sat down in a free chair, ready to jump in on whatever argument was progressing in his living room.

XXX

The polls were closed and results were pouring in from across the east coast. They would be coming in now in waves as night fell from one coast to the other and staffers were on the phones getting results from as many states as possible.

Television pundits talked about red and blue states, flashed maps and pie charts, and droned on about weather related voting and age blocks. On a large white board in the "war room" they had each state listed and as the polls closed and the results were called there would be written a blue or red check next to the state name. As of right now, red and blue were somewhat even and that fact did nothing to dispel stress that was brewing under the surface.

Donna stayed on the phone all day and when the polls finally closed in the northwestern states, she walked up to Josh and gave him the results. As blue checkmarks were placed on the board, a wide smile broke out across his face. Running over to a television tuned to CNN, he waited to hear the official results. He didn't have to wait long.

Sometime between utter exhaustion and absolute fear, the Santos/Rafferty staff saw the newscasters call the election in their favor.

And then, there was absolute chaos.

XXX

Josh, Bram and Rhonna traveled with Matt, Helen and the kids to the hotel ballroom. The obvious presence of the Secret Service didn't phase Josh but seemed to strike awe into the rest of the group. The remaining staff was left to filter over to the ballroom as soon as possible.

When the group walked into the ballroom, the room erupted in noise. Matt and Helen, each with a child in tow, slowly made their way toward the stage to make the acceptance speech. Josh held back, knowing his work was now done, and observed the moment for what it was – a moment of all out celebration.

Standing with his back to the door, he felt someone walk up behind him. Twisting around, he saw Donna, flushed from the cold, standing a few feet away.

"Hey," he mouthed over the noise.

"Hey," she replied, giving a small wave.

Josh was perplexed. _She should be happy_, he thought. But somehow he got the feeling of a wall having been built up around her. Not just with respect to him, but everyone, and the fact that she would have done so saddened him.

At that moment, Matt Santos held up his hand to quiet the crowd. He thanked them all for their hours of hard work and sacrifice. He thanked Arnold Vinnick for his fair fight. He went through a litany of thanks and then told them that their work wasn't done.

As the President-Elect continued with his speech, Josh turned to Donna, but she had vanished. Puzzled, Josh walked out the door of the ballroom to look for her, but she was gone. Turning back to the celebration behind him and the man on the stage, Josh realized that his work there was done. He had vowed to stay through the election and he had done so.

Grabbing his coat, Josh turned and walked out of the hotel to catch a cab.

XXX

When he reached her apartment, he paid the cabbie and watched the taxi disappear down the street. Josh was unsure of what he wanted to say or what, exactly he was going to do, but the look in her eyes had disturbed him and he wanted to know she was okay.

Looking up at her apartment, he noted that the windows were dark. He had long since returned his key and knew that he couldn't simply go up there. As he studied the windows, he noted the soft light coming from the living room. When Donna went to bed, she always left the light on above the kitchen sink. He had teased her about this for years, but she still did it no matter where she was living. It was that light Josh now saw from the living room window.

_She's asleep_, he thought. _Why would she come home and go to bed? Tonight of all nights?_

He stood, wavering in the middle of the street, looking up at her window. Part of him wanted to rush over, push the buzzer for her apartment and force her to let him in. The other part, the rational part, told him that she wanted nothing to do with him and he was wasting everyone's time. Standing in the cold for fifteen minutes, Josh listened to the debate between the two voices.

Glancing up one last time at her bedroom window, he turned and walked down to the corner where he could catch a taxi home.

XXX

Donna stood in the shadows of her bedroom watching Josh out in the street. She had turned off her cell phone prior to putting on her pajamas, wanting to turn off the world around her.

She knew she was depressed, knew she was angry, and knew that if she let him up here, the damage done could never be repaired.

_Do you want to repair it_? said the small voice in the back of her head. _Isn't this what you wanted?_

Shaking her head sadly, Donna had to admit she didn't know what she wanted. She knew she wanted out of Washington, but she didn't know where she would go or what she would do. She wanted away from here, from the reminders of the past. She wanted away from everyday symbols of things that could no longer be.

Silently, she watched as Josh looked up to the window one last time and turned and walked away. She fought the urge to run down to the front stoop and yell after him. Sighing heavily, she turned and crawled into bed, hoping that a good night's sleep would take away the overwhelming feeling of sadness she carried with her.

Out in the living room, the bookshelf was bare. The photograph from the Inaugural Ball had been packed away.

(To be continued.)


	24. Photographs 24

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This one is for **slimwhistler**. My thoughts are with you, my friend. May the Goddess touch you and bring you comfort.

One more chapter after this one. Again, this is a transitional chapter. Don't expect much but to go from A to B.

PHOTOGRAPHS (24)

The day after the election, Donna approached the President-Elect with the proposal she travel back out to Seattle and work on shutting down their state headquarters one state at a time, working her way back east. She argued that she knew the staff in the major cities, knew the set up and would be a good candidate. Plus, she laughed, she wanted more frequent flyer miles.

In truth, she didn't want to be in Washington. Plain and simple. And until she found out where she needed to be, going back out west was the easiest solution.

Matt Santos didn't know what was going on with the blonde, but respected her wishes and realized she was right – there was no one better suited to the job than. Nodding, he watched her let out a sigh of relief and when she left the office, he felt an air of sadness go with her.

As Donna was leaving headquarters, she met up with Josh coming in through the front door. Smiling slightly at his disheveled appearance, she stood aside to let him walk in.

"Hey," he said, "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

"Back out to Seattle," she replied, not looking in his eyes. Not wanting to see the hurt there. "I'm closing up shop out there."

"You're leaving again?" he said softly, leaning down and trying to catch her eyes.

Lifting her head, she looked at him and then out the glass front door. "Yeah."

"How long will you be gone?" The tone in his voice was unmistakable and Donna couldn't bring herself to look at him.

"A month or so."

"Donna, can we..."

"I'm sorry, Josh. I have to go home and pack. I want to see if I can get out to Seattle tonight." She put her hand on the door handle.

"Donna," he said quietly into her ear, "We have to talk."

Summoning all of her strength, she turned to him, looked him in the eye and stood for a moment. Turning, she pushed on the front door and stepped out into the November morning.

XXX

Walking down the street, she felt the tears well up in her eyes.

_He wouldn't understand. He's always been the winner. Even now, he's still the winner._

She had tried so hard to break away from him, to take the step away that would prove to her inner demons that she didn't need a man to make her decisions and define her life. And what happened? The job she picked was doomed from the start, she lost, and ended right back where she had been.

Since the night of the Democratic convention, when Matt Santos and Ricki Rafferty stood together on the stage and Bob Russell slunk back to Washington, Donna felt she had failed. Failed at her one chance of independence, failed at her one try to establish herself. When Matt Santos offered her the position, she couldn't help but ask herself if it had been at Josh's suggestion and it angered her that once again, she was being saved from herself. She wasn't mad at Josh, or the Congressman, or even Will. She was mad at herself.

Donna hoped that the next month or so on the road would help her come up with the answers she so desperately needed. She knew she couldn't go back to Washington, but she didn't know quite where she would go.

XXX

Toby wandered into CJ's office a week after the election and planted himself in a chair.

Looking up over her glasses, CJ drew out the word, "Yes?"

Studying his tie, Toby said slowly, "What would you say if I said I was going to be a teacher?"

CJ took off her glasses and sat back in her chair, "What?"

Toby looked up and clasped his hands in his lap. "New York University. I'm going to be starting there in June for their summer session."

Jumping out of her chair, CJ ran over to hug him, "That's wonderful, Toby!"

Smiling, Toby returned the hug. "Yeah, I can commute down to see the twins and can bring them back to the city once they are a little older."

CJ leaned back against the desk and smiled, "Wow. You're going to teach, Josh will be behind my desk..."

Toby cleared his throat uncomfortably. It had taken all of his willpower not to tell CJ about the episode at the farm, but Josh was a friend and they had all given their word that night. But, he rationalized, the election is over...

Standing up, Toby walked over to the office door and closed it. Turning around, he faced CJ and said, "Josh isn't coming to the White House with Matt Santos."

CJ shook her head, as if to clear it, and said, "What?"

Toby looked at his shoes, "He's not coming with Santos."

Trying to catch Toby's eye, CJ was incredulous, "Why the hell not?"

"Sit down," Toby said quietly, gesturing to the sofa.

"No, I will not sit down," CJ said obstinately. "What the hell is going on, Toby?"

"CJ, sit down," Toby replied firmly. The two stood face to face for a moment until CJ blinked and sat down on the sofa.

"I'm telling you this now because the election is over and Josh made us promise."

"Us?" she questioned.

Sighing, he said softly, "Me, Leo, the President and the First Lady."

"Toby..."

"He collapsed, CJ," Toby said, meeting her eye. "That weekend we were in Manchester in October. He collapsed at the farm."

CJ sat in total stillness.

"The First Lady made arrangements for him to see a cardiologist in Boston the next day. They think he has coronary artery disease. He needs to leave all 'this'," he said gesturing with his hand, "or he's likely to have a massive heart attack."

Covering her mouth with her hand, CJ stood and walked over to the window. She crossed her arms across her chest and stood silently.

"If he takes care of himself..." Toby started.

"Oh, for God's sake, Toby, this is Josh we're talking about," CJ said from the window.

Toby smiled and said softly, "Yeah."

The room was silent for a moment.

"What else did the doctors say?" CJ said, her voice sounding far away in her own ears.

"Nothing, really. Josh refused to come in for any tests until the election was over."

CJ whirled around, "And you let him? You all just said, 'Okay, your heart is a ticking time-bomb, but go ahead and go back to the job that will kill you?' Jesus, Toby!"

Toby stood and walked over to her. "CJ, it's Josh. He wouldn't let us do anything. He wanted to get Santos through the election."

Putting her hand up to her forehead, CJ suddenly felt very old. The events of the last eight years whirled past her – Rosslyn, the MS Investigations, Simon's death, Zoey's kidnapping, Gaza, everything.

"CJ?" Toby said, worried about the pale shade of her face.

Smiling wanly, she turned toward him, "I'm okay. Just a little overwhelmed with everything, I think."

Walking over to her desk, she sat down. "Has anyone told Donna?"

Toby looked down at his feet again. "No. Josh was pretty emphatic about her not knowing."

Shaking her head, CJ said softly, "What are we going to do with them?"

Toby studied her for a moment and said, "I don't know. I don't know if anything can be done. Sometimes you get so far away from where you should be..."

The two locked eyes. The things left unsaid between them were just beneath the surface. Visible, but not touchable without a great deal of effort.

CJ broke away first.

"Anything else?"

Lifting his head slightly, Toby said, "No."

Returning to the work in front of her, CJ didn't look up until the she heard the door close. Putting her head down on her hands, she started to cry.

XXX

"So," Matt said, leaning back in his chair.

"So," Josh laughed, putting his hands in his pockets and leaning up against the wall.

They had agreed to use their Washington headquarters for planning purposes until the Inauguration. Matt felt awkward using his Congressional office for such purposes and Josh agreed that it wouldn't hurt to have a separate base of operations until January.

"I need a cabinet. And a staff," Matt said simply, looking down at the blank notepad in front of him.

"I've been thinking about that," Josh said starting to pace. "You need a chief of staff. And they need to come in right now and get you started."

"Josh..."

"I can't, sir. You know that."

The two had had this discussion over and over. But the fact of the matter was that Josh would be leaving Washington in two months to begin teaching at Harvard. He had made the deal shortly after the diagnosis from Dr. Culver and had informed the Congressman of his decision.

"It doesn't hurt to ask," Matt said smiling. He knew that Josh wouldn't stay in Washington, but the idea of losing the man who brought him this far was terrifying.

"I think you need to talk to Cliff Cauley," Josh said quietly. "He's experienced, he's been in the job for a while..."

"He's a Republican," Matt added, "I don't want him as my Chief of Staff. I know what he did with the stem-cell vote, but I don't..."

Josh sat down and looked at Matt, "He'd be good. He's loyal and he's wiling to go out of his way. It would be a good faith gesture to the Republicans – a trade for another eight years of a Democratic president. Plus, he saved me once."

Matt studied Josh and wondered what stories there were in the background of these people that he would never know.

"He saved you?"

Smiling, Josh said softly, "Yeah. He's a good guy."

Thinking for a moment, Matt studied Josh and saw that he was complete serious.

_This guy must be good if Josh is willing to recommend a Republican to be my CoS._

"Ok," Matt said leaning back in his chair, "Say I take Cliff Cauley as my Chief of Staff. Who is his deputy?"

Josh broke out into a wide grin and said, "Remember Joey Lucas?"

(To be continued.)


	25. Photographs 25

_Author's notes to follow._

PHOTOGRAPHS (25)

Inauguration Day was two weeks away and Washington lay beneath a fresh clean blanket of winter snow. Josh had always liked these days. It was cold, yes, but the snow was pure and crystalline around the city. He liked to enjoy these days for within hours, the snow would turn to slush on every street corner and the purity of the air would turn common again.

Shifting his backpack further up on his shoulder, he trudged on through the snow. His hiking boots made a crisp sound when he walked and while he felt the cold through his jeans, it was a pleasant cold, not the bone-chilling wetness that would come later in the season.

He had been working, these past few weeks, on transitioning the campaign staff to White House staff – at least those that would be going into office with President-Elect Santos. Bram, Ned and Rhonna would be going and Cliff and Joey had accepted Matt's offers of Chief of Staff and Deputy Chief of Staff. The lineup was good – strong and young and full of people who would guide him along the right path. Josh felt confident that this group would succeed as the golden gang had succeeded under Jed Bartlet.

CJ had complained that they were poaching Cliff in the last days of their time in office, but secretly she admitted to Josh that he was a good fit for the new administration. Joey had been overwhelmed at first, but had quickly jumped in with both feet, flying around headquarters and getting a feel for all the staff that would be moving to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Josh had worked with Matt in crafting the new cabinet and getting people on board. He had also attended meetings between the Bartlet senior staff and Santos staff to assure that the transition would be smooth and effortless. Remembering his first days in the White House, he wanted to spare his colleagues the utter confusion and terror as much as possible.

The President had invited him for dinner at the Residence where he, Abby, and Leo grilled Josh about his future position with the John F. Kennedy School of Government on the Harvard campus. They reminisced about their own times on the campaign trail and ended the evening in a small group talking about their years in office. After finishing up in the office, CJ and Toby joined them and the party turned into a very lively trip down memory lane.

As he was going to leave, Josh turned to the President and said softly, "Remember, in that first campaign, when you came to the airport to see me off after my father died?"

Jed looked in his eyes and nodded, "Yes."

Struggling with tears, Josh said quietly, "Thank you."

With his free hand, Jed reached up and hugged the younger man and softly kissed him on the cheek. This was his son, had always been his son from that day in the airport terminal, and he could do no less for him than he would his own children.

Turning, Josh left the White House for the last time.

XXX

It was a long walk, he remembered now, after going what seemed like a hundred blocks. But he felt that a cab would take him there much too quickly. He needed to think about the words, phrase them in his head. Knowing his own tendency to speak without thinking, he didn't want this to be one of those times.

_What do I say to her? After all this time? How do I tell her I'm finally free?_

He had started to buy flowers, but remembered the moment in Germany when he walked into the empty hospital room. Since that time, bouquets of red flowers hit him in the pit of the stomach like a swift kick from an unseen enemy.

_Coffee_, he thought, _I could bring her coffee_. But that seemed too trite and simple and unexpressive. Coffee couldn't tell her all the things he wanted to tell her.

In the end, he brought nothing but himself. After all, when they met, all he had was a campaign badge. That was how they started. Now, he didn't even have that to offer her, but he hoped that wouldn't make a difference.

XXX

She had been back in town for a few weeks. He knew from Matt that she had done a whirlwind tour of the North- and Mid-West closing down their offices, cleaning up accounts, and basically tying up all the loose ends. Matt confided in Josh that he wanted Donna in his administration, but that she had pre-emptively turned him down.

"She said she didn't want to go back to the White House?" Josh said incredulously.

"Not in so many words," Matt said, studying the papers in front of him. "She basically hinted that she didn't want to stay in Washington. A polite way of telling me not to ask."

"Well, did she say anything else?" Josh pushed, leaning over the edge of the Congressman's desk.

"No, Josh. I didn't ask her," replied Santos, looking up from his papers. "She's always kept to herself. Wasn't my place to push."

Josh leaned back in his chair and studied a spot on the wall while Santos studied him. The Congressman was still completely in the dark regarding the nature of the relationship between his former campaign manager and issues director. Each seemed eager to avoid the other, but the sheer magnetism between them was obvious to anyone and everyone. The rumors had never stopped, even after the election, and it was hard to tell fact from fiction at this point.

"What do you think of Thomason as Secretary of Labor?" Matt said, studying the man across from him.

Josh continued to study the spot on the wall, oblivious to the question.

"Josh?"

Turning to Santos, Josh focused and said, "What?"

Shuffling the papers in front of him, Santos repeated, "What do you think of Thomason as Secretary of Labor?"

XXX

He was close to the apartment now, but no closer to figuring out what he would say to her. Before, when pushed into situations where he had to wing it, he had come up with secret plans to fight inflation, insults about God and tax evasion, and simple bullying. None of these tactics would work in this situation and Josh knew he'd have to be completely honest with himself and with her for the first time in almost nine years.

_Honest? I'll be honest_, he thought to himself. _I'm scared shitless_.

XXX

Standing outside in the snow, he studied the front door. He didn't want to use the buzzer because he didn't want to give her the opportunity to tell him 'no', or not answer the door, or call the cops, or any of the other dozen scenarios that ran through his head. So he waited.

After about ten minutes, someone came out the door and down the step. Josh jogged over and grabbed the door before it locked and ran up the steps to her door.

Shifting his bag again on this shoulder, he lifted his hand, hesitated and then knocked. The hallway was empty and he could hear the faint sound of music coming up the stairway from one of the lower apartments.

Knocking again, he strained to hear any movement from inside the apartment, but all was silent. Josh simply stood there, staring at the door. For once, he was completely out of ideas.

The sound of a door opening across the hall broke his reverie. Mrs. Silvasky, an older woman Josh had met several times right there in the hallway, saw him standing in front of the door and said, "Honey, she's gone."

Looking over at her, he said, "Gone? Gone where?"

"Moved," the older woman said. "Packed up everything and left."

Josh was stunned. In all of the scenarios he had played out in his head, he had never even considered this one. Not once.

"When did she leave?"

"The moving boys came last week," Mrs. Silvasky said, gesturing with her hands, "She went back to Minnesota, Michigan, no... oh, where is it she's from?"

"Wisconsin."

"That's it! She went back to Wisconsin. Said she was going to do something with books."

"Books?"

"That's what she said. I'm sorry you missed her."

Josh slumped slightly and shifted his backpack on his shoulder. The months of work and stress, elation and depression, suddenly made him feel like an old man. He had waited years for this very day and had banked everything on her opening that door when he knocked. It had never occurred to him that she wouldn't be behind the door or that she wouldn't even be in the city. But she wasn't there. Just like those months ago when she walked out of the White House, she was gone. Except this time, she didn't even tell him she was leaving.

"So am I," he said softly, an emptiness taking over and pushing at his heart. Turning, he walked back down the stairs.

As he got to the first floor landing, the music that had been barely audible before was louder. Donna had once mentioned that the girls on the first floor had a tendency for loud music – not that it bothered her, she said. It gave the building ambience and a liveliness she found comforting.

Josh stopped for a minute and listened. He recognized the song as one Donna had played for him once, after an argument over the merits of the Lilith Fair. As he heard it now, it seemed to mock him, as if fate was taking one last opportunity to rub his face in the time he had wasted.

_In the terms of endearment_

_In the terms of the life that you love_

_In the terms of the years that passed you by_

_In the terms of the reasons why_

Standing in that hallway, listening to the lilting voice of the red-headed singer, Josh felt a sadness settle in around him. It was similar to that he felt the day Donna left to work for Bob Russell, but deeper. He knew that leaving was her choice. Chasing after her would do nothing but drive her further away. He had gambled, taken his chance, and lost.

Pushing on the heavy front door, Josh walked outside into the bright January day. It was picture perfect, if only at first glance.

_Fin._


	26. Epilogue Author's Notes

EPILOGUE/AUTHOR'S NOTES

"What?"

"But she..."

"But he..."

"Noooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

Are you saying those things? I hope you are, because if you are, that means you are invested in this story and in these characters. It touched you and made you feel something.

For those of you who are cursing me right now, take heart. Right over there (two doors down on the left) is the sequel to this novel – _Into the Breach_. It is a work in progress and has many more twists and turns in store. Some of you have read it – some have not. If you aren't familiar with it, click on my name at the top of the page and it'll take you to the index of my stories.

As always, this could not have been done without a core batch of people –

**slimwhistler** and **outtabreath** who listened, e-mailed, beta-ed, helped more than they will ever know.

My sisters in life, **Bridget**, **Eileen** and **Susie**, who read and encouraged - you make my days brighter and easier to live through.

The entire gang at the Gilmore Girls and West Wing fanfic threads of TWoP – a more talented and supportive group has never existed.

And to everyone who read, reviewed and critiqued – Thank you.

Now, I'm off to write some more. 'Til then...

Oh, and don't forget, John Wells is a hack.


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